The Technician
by DanAlaya
Summary: Behind every organization are the little people who make it work. The cleaners, technicians, secretaries and clerical staff. Not everyone has large roles to play in life, but the desicions we make, and the paths we follow all have consequences. Our favourite assassins will make an appearance here and there, but this story is not about them.
1. Work Ethic

_Ok, so this is my first foray into fiction writing. Not done something like this since I was in school, and that my dear readers, was a time long long ago. (possibly in a galaxy far far away) Reviews are welcome, hate is not. Criticism will be taken on board, but only if you say it nicely._

_Oh, I probably should mention that Ubisoft own Assassins Creed. Good for them. I own my OC's. Rather hoping they are gonna appreciate in value over time._

_Right, to the story!_

* * *

Carey walked into the cubicle to find a pair of legs sticking out from under the machine. Tools as well as an unhealthy number of internal parts were strewn across the floor in a seriously worrying way.

"Leto, you said you would have it up and running in a couple of hours." he addressed the pair of legs, seriously put out by the continual delay. He checked his watch, stressing about the lost time. This was not something he wanted to be pulled up on, _again._ The damn thing kept glitching and breaking down, but his boss made as if that was his fault.

He sighed as he realised that Leto hadn't heard him. The faint tshk tshk from her iPod barely audible over the hum of all the other machines. He kicked Leto's legs as a movement down the corridor caught his attention. Looked like Peter the section supervisor was making his rounds. He really did not need this right now. Leto slid herself out.

"Hey ya Carey, it's gonna be a while, sorry." Leto greeted him in the far too loud voice of someone listening to loud music. She flashed him a smile while grabbing a mars bar from a pocket. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Peter was making a beeline for his glass cubicle. Panicking slightly, he waved his hand across his throat a couple of times. Leto's eyes went wide as she caught the warning, and she hastily stuffed the earphones down the collar of her jumpsuit. Carey stifled a giggle as the mars bar followed.

"Mr O'Moal..." Peter boomed at him as he strode into the glass cubicle "I am not a happy person. You have only logged 45 minutes of research time today. What do you have to say for yourself this time?"

Carey groaned inside. Was the man blind? Could he not see that half of a Animus seemed to be sitting in pieces on the floor? Or smell the electrical burnt odor in the air? Or see the orange warning lights on the parts of the Animus that still worked? Heck, he even wondered if he had bothered to read the Animus monitor reports? No, all the little creep was doing was checking the time spent in the machine and the subsequent analysis time. Keeping his face as neutral as possible he gestured to the machine.

"It seriously glitched out on me. Synchronisation kept destabilizing. As you said, I only managed to get 45 minutes before it completely over heated. Leto's been here ever since trying to fix it"

Peter turned a sneer on Leto. "Miss Day, I am not a very patient man. You have spent the past 2 and a half hours working on that machine, and I am very concerned about its current status, and your competence at your job."

So, the little slave driver does check the the Animus monitor reports, Carey thought to himself, catching the little glare Leto sent his way.

"Mr Smith, it over heated! I had to wait half hour to even open the baby. She was running at well over 200 at one point. And look at this..." she grabbed a charred, melted blob of plastic from the floor, pushing it into his face. The look of disgust on Peters face was almost priceless.

"Look! That is what is left of 16 beautiful processing chips. It took me ages to get them out. The heat inside there was so great that it melted everything around them, including one of the primary boards." She threw her hands up in the air. "This is the last unit on the line. And I just keep telling you, the cooling system cannot cope with the heat output."

"I don't care Miss Day." He rudely interrupted her, "This is your job, for which you are paid very well. Maybe if you spent less time listening to whatever insipid noise you consider music and more time concentrating on your job, we would not be having this conversation." Turning, he moved to the door, "And Mr O'Moal, just because _your_ machine is not working does not mean you cannot use another" he threw over his shoulder as he left.

"Bastard" Carey growled, his Irish accent deepening "He knows all the available and working machines are being used."

"Slave driving, ignorant pig" Leto was digging around the top half of her jumpsuit before pulling out a slightly melted and battered mars bar. "Want some?" she offered.

He shook his head, amusement playing on his lips as he watched her scoff the whole thing down.

"Well. Your baby aint gonna be workin for te rest of te day" she said with her mouth fall. He sighed in frustration, rubbing his temples. She looked over to him with sympathy.

"Blimey, didn't realise you were so eager to get back to the trenches."

"Damn it Leto. You know you're not supposed to look at what we do here. You could get into a lot of trouble. Or worse."

She shot him a look.

"Yeah, so you guys really think that your computer technician aint gonna glance through your emails or recorded memories when you want me to fix something?" She grinned impishly at him, "Now if that ain't naive, then I don't know what is. Why do you think John spends so much time 'fixing and tweaking' Jane's Animus?" Carey frowned at the remark, not understanding. Leto's face expanded into a gleeful smile. "Oh! You dont know! Man, that is funny. Jane's ancestor she's studying is a whore. Literally, a bonafide prostitute, and ya know, John likes to _watch_. Man, is Jane gonna be pissed when she finds out that the whole floor knows." she chuckled to herself.

"So, you have watched some of the tapes from my sessions?" He asked nervously.

"Yup." Came the smug reply.

"But not all of them?" He asked hopefully.

"Of course not man. There's been hours of stuff recorded. I'm a tech, not a damn analyst." She said, slipping herself back under the Animus. He rolled his eyes in a silent 'thank you'. A disembodied voice, muffled by the machinery reached him.

"I did however, not miss the night the heat went out." He stared at her feet. He could almost feel the smugness radiating off her. Growling slightly to himself, he turned on his heel, suddenly resolute on finding another Animus to work on, and to get away from that infuriating girl.

* * *

Leto chuckled to herself as she heard Carey storm off. She hoped she hadn't offended him, she'd only been teasing. Hell, this place could do with some friendly. It was all swish and Star Trek, but no one was friendly. So serious and focused on their work. Everyone acted like secret agents, all hush hush, need to know and so many layers of encryption that the encryption was encrypted. Carey was one of a few who she knew she could strike up a normal conversation with.

She continued replacing parts in the broken Animus. Testing and rechecking power flow and stability of the coolant system. She didn't mind her job, infact she quite liked it. This sort of technology is what fanboys world over dreamed about, and here was Abstergo using and testing it. She couldnt wait to see them rolled out publicly. It was the ultimate games console. Total immersion. That alone was worth it. But to be able to access genetic memory as well, now that was outstanding. Everyone could research and meet their own ancestors. It could help amnesia and coma patients, help police with suspect ID. Hell, she'd even used it to find her lost keys.

Of course, the money helped as well.

She sighed as she heard a component crackle and fiz somewhere in the machine. She might not be getting home to watch that marathon Dr Who on tv. Still, if she fixed it, at least she would make some people happy.

* * *

Peter Smith stood looking out over the animus room, feeling irritated by this woman. Why couldn't she be just like everyone else, and focus on her work. The constant joking and general joviality was making his research team lose focus. Looking down at the tablet in his hand, he sneered at the company photo of her. Who on earth smiles at the camera after having just been fingerprinted, and DNA sampled by men with guns?

A cough sounded behind him. Turning to find one of the security team standing at the door to his office.

"You asked for an update on Miss Day" the grunt with a bad buzzcut said. Irritably, Peter waved him in, and sat behind his desk, pointedly not offering the man in front of him a seat.

"Go on then" he prodded.

The grunt nervously swallowed, and Peter allowed a small smile inside. People were so weak willed. They needed to be ruled, subjugated.

"There is no evidence that she has any contact with the Assassins. Not even close. In fact, she spends most of her time here." glancing down and scrolling down the screen of his own tablet he continued "Last week alone she was here, on site, for 74 hours. She spoke to 26 different people. Only 19 conversations carried on beyond a greeting, and of those, 16 were solely about work.

Outside of work, she doesn't do much. She has her groceries and shopping delivered. Loves thai food, but doesn't eat out. No gym membership, although she does go for a jog on a sunday morning. No friends have ever come over to her apartment. She phones her family twice a week, although, that has become more frequent. Apparently her sister is getting married, and she is a bridesmaid. The last movie she went to see was The Avengers. Actually, she went to see it 4 times." Peter raised his eyebrow, calculating the possibility. As if reading his mind, the grunt continued "But that fits with the personality profile. A geek. She went to see Star Trek 9 times. Owns the box set of almost every science fiction TV show ever to be made. Spends a lot of time on her PS3. Her trophy collection puts mine to shame. She even goes to comic-con every year." He trailed off, hoping the ordeal would be over. Peter looked at him.

"What about the three conversations she did have? Who were they with and what were they about?"

"um, Nicole Pritchard from Internal HR. Apparently they are both massive fans of a canceled TV show called Firefly. Then there was Casey O'Moal. I believe she was giving him tips on a particularly difficult part of a game called Uncharted 3. And, um, they also spent some time discussing you sir. I cannot say that they think very highly of you sir. And, Lucy Stillman. They discussed the new Bond movie and how chocolate was best thing in the world. They also touched on a mutual hatred for Justin Beiber"

"Who?" Peters ears perked up again, but the grunt just shook his head.

"A boy pop star who is very popular at the moment. No affliation, and unimportant."

Peter nodded, thinking.

"Fine. I still want her monitored. Continue tapping phone, apartment, internet and car. And, send me the tapes of those three conversations please. I want to listen to them."

The grunt made his escape from his superior. He didn't like the man who reminded him of a weasel. A dangerous man. He wouldn't want to be in Day or O'Moal's shoes after he had listened to their conversation. He had been very polite in the way he phrased it, but he doubted Smith would be so calm after listening to a half hour of himself being slagged off. No, he made sure he was back down on the security level before he sent Smith those recordings.

* * *

_So, what do you think? Got any idea where its going? Write something in the box below!_

_Anything!_

_There will be cake._


	2. Perfectionist

_Dont own AC._

* * *

She grumbled to herself when she looked at her watch. Well past 8pm. Slumping down to the floor, she dug around her tool bag, finding a hidden Red Bull at the bottom. Cracking it open, she drunk deeply, knowing that with the way things were going, and the plan she had, she could be there all night.

Technically, she _had_ fixed the Animus four hours ago.

Of course, half hour after that, and it had started to overheat, _again_. Which is why she was currently messing around on the coolant floor. She liked it down here, everything looked really cool, covered in a layer of frost, or pipes off-gassing creating a thin fog in the place. Unfortunately, it wasn't a place you could spend all day in. Not without a coat, hat and gloves, something which Abstergo didn't give out as PPE. They should do, she realised, thinking there there were probably laws that were supposed to protect her from working in substandard conditions. Maybe she would mention it the next time she sees Peter. Annoy him a bit more.

She typed away on the tablet she had hooked up to one of the coolant plants, trying to coax it to prioritise Carey's machine. A grin spread across her face as the computer gave her green lights across the board.

"SCORE!" she pumped her fist in the air "Oh yeah, I know I am just that fricking awesome!"

She stuffed her ear phones into her ears, mashing the shuffle button. Delighted when Converting Vegetarians started playing, she danced her way around the mess she had created, picking up scattered tools, and replacing various covers and screws on the coolant plant.

* * *

12 floors down, a nameless jarhead sat watching the CCTV, enjoying the show. It beat watching a mostly empty building, or the prisoners sleeping. And he could definitely appreciate the curves of the petite girl dancing her way around one of the coolant plants. He idly wondered what she was listening too, and maybe if he could get her to give him her number.

She finished what ever she was doing and headed for the lift. Leaning forward, he brought his work station online. Of course, he already had her number from the company employee database, but he prefers doing things the old fashioned way. Besides, he had already seen the red flags attached to her file. Maybe he shouldn't be pursuing someone on the 24/7 watch list.

Quickly isolating the sections of her dancing, he saved copies from the memory banks before forwarding it on to Mr Smith. He hesitated only a second, before forwarding a copy to himself. Just in case he ever got bored with watching the Animus recordings from Jane's sessions he thought to himself.

* * *

Leto was very pleased. "Good girl" she said, smugly patting the Animus' outer casing. Back upstairs in the Animi room she had run all the power test evaluations, core diagnostics and non-live simulations. Tweaking power consumption and distribution to match the coolant runs here and there. She had even found the faulty sensor responsible for the glitchy twitching Carey was always complaining about every time he went near a pig or chicken.

She sighed in contentment at a job well done just as that nagging doubt flashed in the back of her head. She rolled her eyes at the machine.

"Seriously, you're fine. All fixed with new air con. 26 new processing chips. A clean memory core. 2 new boards..." She trailed off, realising the argument with the inanimate machine was one sided, pointless, and that she had lost.

"Fine fine. I know nothing is ever fixed until its have a live sim run. What are ya tryin to do to me? It twelve fifteen! I should be in bed, watching the Doctor do the impossible" She groaned, pressing the palms of her hands into her eye sockets.

"Damn perfectionist" she grumbled to herself as she rummaged through her tool kit. Pulling out a Red Bull she shook it at the Animus.

"Look, its my last one, so if you throw a paddy and decide to blow up or anything, I aint fixing ya tonight. So, play nice" she warned the machine. Sipping on the drink, she loaded a testing sim to get started.

The machine whirred and purred, the soft blue and white lighting pulsed like it was breathing. Pausing for a second, she queued up another programme. May as well put her through her paces. Check for any bugs.

Sitting on the edge of the Animus, she downed the rest of the red bull, casually tossing it into a trash can in the corner. She grinned to herself noticing that the can was full of empty red bull cans and sweet wrappers. 'oh well, its been a stressful day at work. I can go back on the diet tomorrow.'

Sliding onto the bed like top of the Animus, she let the machine take over. The screen wrapping over her head, she could feel the machine tap into her body. That's the part she didn't like. The mechanics of the Animus actually reading one's genetic code was yet another of Abstergo's closely guarded secrets. She had never seen the completely sealed boxes break down or fail once. Heck, it didn't have any cables or connexions at all, working with some sort of induction field she theorized.

She remembered the first few months she worked here, learning about all the technology she would have to look after. She quickly worked out that without the Animus chip, as the scientists referred to it, the whole thing was scrap parts. The chip was the go between for the body and the computer. And she had been seriously yelled at for trying to sneak a look inside one.

The familiar pulling sensation came over her as the Animus loaded her consciousness into the simulation. A blue misty expanse of nothing. A series of objects appeared on pedestals, the base testers as she liked to call them. The first a penny and feather. Absentmindedly she picked them up, and dropped them, gravity and resistance applying different pressures to both thus exerting a different outcome. Grabbing the pitcher of orange juice on the next pedestal, she poured herself a glass and sipped half of it before tossing it up in the air. The glass smashed as it hit the floor, she nodded, satisfied with the acoustics and moved to examine the spilt juice. She remembered doing this once where the puddle proceeded to levitate 5cm off the ground, but this was looking like a normal wet puddle.

Passing by a single rose in a stem vase, she quickly inhaled, checking the olfactory sensors were working right before moving on to the last pedestal. A simple temperature test. A bowl of hot water and an ice cube, her senses perceiving the correct temperature difference.

She walked away, concentrating her mind on closing the test programme and asking the Animus to run the next. The objects dissolved, and the blue haze became denser and the processes started building. Light flashed and she found herself in the middle of a busy, bustling crowd of people. A New York street. This was one of James's test simulations. It had taken him weeks to build and render, and she had to admit it was pretty good. Walking against the crowd, she could pick out different conversations now and then. She was being jostled left and right, almost a fight to push forward. A waft of fresh coffee hit her as a fat businessman pushed past her carrying a steaming cup. She smiled as she spotted the woman in the red dress and crossed the road to avoid the 'Mr Smith' that was sure to pop up any second. She sat herself down on a low stone wall, just watching the mass of simulated people. She felt tired. Even being dissociated from her physical body, she felt tired. Resting her chin on her hand, she watched the scene in front of her. Everything was playing out as it should be. It looked real, smelt real, sounded real. She knew it would, she did a good job with fixing the Animas. And now she really needed to go home and sleep.

Standing up, she concentrated her mind, bringing up the controls to shut the programme down and bring herself out of the Animus. The world around her started pixelating. The people on the street evaporating mid step into nothing. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a man, the only person other than her not to be walking or moving, he was just standing there, watching her, his face hidden by his white hood. She turned to look at him just as the computer deconstructed him and brought her back to the real world.

She brushed it off as either a glitch, or something new James was working on. She didn't remember anything like him in the Matrix.

She slowly sat up, conscious of the tiredness making everything feel so slow. She patted the side of the Animas as she slipped off. "Thats my girl" she whispered, smiling as she read the diagnostic read through. Still running a little hot, but the new management protocol seemed to be working. She knew it had not yet processed a live memory session yet, but god she was tired now. Running her hands through her hair, she shut everything down, grabbed her stuff and headed to the elevator.

* * *

A van pulled up in the underground parking lot of the Abstergo building, just outside the elevator. It was 3am, and the place was deserted. The back doors swung open, and four men unceremoniously dragged a bound man in a white hoodie out of the back. He struggled against them, but the cuffs restricted his movement, and the black bag over his head completely disoriented him. They easily manhandled him into the waiting elevator, throwing him to the floor.

* * *

_ok, yeah. I know. I think I need to speed it up a bit. The next one will be better. I hope_


	3. Intel

_I dont own Ubisoft or Assassins Creed._

* * *

Johannes was apprehensive. He sat in the back of the army truck, looking out over the Ypres Salient front line, it receding into the distance as the truck carried him away from the trenches. He should be relieved he thought. Away from the constant clinging mud, the insipid wet, stench of death and leaching cold. The further away from the front lines, the safer it would be. Away from the constant exchange of gunfire and the barrage of the artillery.

But he was apprehensive. Looking down at his mud caked boots, he knew he was bearing bad news. As aide to General Erich Albert he was now tasked with securing the generals belongings and updating the other commanders. It was the debriefing that caused him worry. Questions will be asked, and the answers given would not be liked. This was not the way he had intended on spending christmas.

The truck lurched on over the uneven mud covered road to Waregem. He had, maybe an hour. He took the time to open the attache case next to him. All the important documents and letters of the generals were inside, removed from Leinster operations base before the next general arrived to take Alberts place. At this point in time, he could not guarantee the replacement would be trustworthy enough, or even a templar. He knew everything in the case, but he went through just one more time.

Johannes didn't seem to notice the sudden blue mist that dissolved everything

* * *

"argh! What happened?" Carey asked sitting up from the Animus, slightly disorientated.

"Temp is spiking again" Leto replied, concentrating on the screens in front of her. She had hooked up her diagnostic tablet to the machine and was using both the tablet and interface on the Animas at the same time. Concentration was imperative. She just could not understand why or how the Animus was producing that much heat.

"Well, it is nearly lunch time. I could do with a break" Carey said as he plodded over to his work station and sat down, bringing up the video of his last session, specifically the images of the documents in the generals attache case.

"Find anything to change the history books with today?" Carey paused for a second, considering how to answer. He knew Leto thought that they were using the Animus project as a historical research tool. But he had to wonder if she had started seeing a pattern to the lives she had watched through the screen. She stood there, hip cocked to one side and she typed on the keyboard with the flurry of strokes. He realised that it had probably been an innocent question from a curious mind.

"No. We already knew that the trenches were horrible places" he said, being vague. He sighed, "But, I will say that watching the war play out from the standpoint of a German is weird. Its creeped me out more than a couple of times." Mainly because they should have won he thought to himself. Not because he was pro-nazi, but because not all templar plans had been enacted during the wars. They had failed at complete control yet again due to the Assassins.

But that was history. They had learnt from past mistakes. It was the Assassins who were stuck in the past, and the Templars were driving them to extinction. And he was just doing his part for the cause. General Albert had not fathered any children before he was murdered. His genetic code and memories had be lost to them. Casey hoped that his great grandfathers close relationship to the general meant that not all the knowledge and intel was lost. And it finally looked like things were paying off. With a high quality screen shot of one of the papers in the attache case on his screen, Casey started the long process of translating everything into english.

* * *

"Does the pixie want a coffee?" Leto's attention was diverted away from her chicken ceasar wrap. John had just walked into the break room to grab himself a cup of coffee. Leto scrunched up her nose in irritation as a blog of mayonnaise escaped onto her sleeve.

"um, yea sure, that would be great" she said, using her fingernail to carefully scrape off the offending food. "Actually, I've been meaning to catch you. I ran your lady in red sim last night to test out one of the Animi. I thought that everyone in the sim save for agent Smith was supposed to be moving all the time. You know, testing the motion and acceleration capabilities of the render programmes"

"That wasn't the only reason I built the sim." he said to her suggestively "Didn't know that the pixie swung that way."

"What ever John." she glared at him. The man really did repulse her. Vastly overweight, all sweaty and oily. His long dirty blond hair looking like rat tails tied back in a scruffy ponytail. "So, are you telling me that you ain't interested in knowing that your sim is broken then?"

He puffed out his chest indignantly, offended at the accusation. "Well, its not the sim thats the problem. You must have introduced something into the programme"

"I was using it on a clean machine to test hardware. I hadn't even loaded the memory sync programmes. I was about 8 mins in, just watching for distortion and stuff. Everything ran fine. Started shut down when I saw this guy standing watching me. It was literally as everything dematerialised"

"pft, well, there you have your answer. With that many people to process and render, the computer was just lagging. Shutdown takes up a lot of power." he shrugged the whole thing off. Too proud of his creation to contemplate something wrong with the sim.

* * *

Johannes stood stiffly in the empty office. He was being made to wait. The room was cast in dim light, heavy green velvet curtains hanging loosely at the 3 large floor to ceiling windows. He could just make out the tape criss crossing the glass on the window. A small attempt at reducing flying shrapnel if the Allies managed to drop a bomb nearby. A large antique desk dominated the room, a large german flag hung from the ceiling behind it, with two wing back chairs sitting off to one side next to an empty cold fireplace. Bookshelves lined one wall, still filled with a collection of books that must have taken decades to put together. It was an office of gentry, a wealthy man. No doubt he and his family were long dead now, whether they gave their property willingly to the Nazi's or not. Probably not considering the dried blood stains he saw on the walls downstairs.

The double doors behind he swung open, admitting three generals, their heels clipping the parquet flooring, a sudden an annoying noise breaking the quiet. As they passed Johannes, he clicked his heels together and performed a military salute. The men returned the salute, directing it to the flag behind the desk, before moving and taking seats around the room. The salute was not necessary, they were all Templars, and military ritual and custom had to be observed.

"Heir Burger, you have returned to us bearing distressing news. That General Albert has been killed in action is bad enough, but in one of our own trenches by an Assassin? How did this happen?" The templar behind the desk leaned forward as he addressed Johannes, stressing the last question, a subtle implication behind his words. Johannes cleared his throat before answering.

"December 25th. At approximately 3:34pm. General Albert invited a medic into one of the rear trenches. The general had a man in desperate need of medical attention. The medic successfully operated on and save the mans life. It appears that while congratulating the medic, the assassin noticed General Albert's templar ring. The ring was found in the mud next to the generals body. General Albert was stabbed once, and the Assassin escaped. I believe the assassin was attached to 2nd Royal Irish." He made sure to only state the facts. Facts checked with soldiers who had been then. He could not afford to speculate.

"What was an Allied medic doing in our trenches in the first place?" The man in front of him growled out. Johanne kept his breathing even. He would not show any sign of weakness in front of these jackeles.

"We had been short a medic for 4 days sir. We didn't even have an ambulance truck. Our 3 field medics were in surgery when a mortar hit their trench. One survived, but was shot a few hours later. And the nearest hospital had been seriously damaged in artillery fire. Any injured was to be shipped out to the next hospital, 50 miles away. The soldier would not have survived the trip." Johannes paused to collect his thoughts, but was beaten to the punch by one of the other templars sitting by the empty fire.

"It was during the christmas truce was it not?" Johannes glanced over. The man was not looking at Johannes, but rather at his superior behind the desk.

"Yes" Johannes confirmed, "The truce had been unofficial inforce since the morning of the 24th. The General was not happy, but saw the potential opportunity it brought. He did not endorse nor condone the truce. It was something the men came up with. Since it had been a success, he sought out a medic. He actually found the CO from the Royal Warwickshire Regiment, and negotiated a trade. I was to be held as temporary POW by the Allies to ensure the safe return of their medic." This was only partially true. His hands became sweaty and his mouth dry, feeling uncomfortable telling such a lie.

"The medic. You said he was from the 2nd Royal Irish." The statement came from the quiet man at the fireplace. Johannes frowned, not understanding, waitig for him to clarify "We captured the 2nd Royal Irish on the 21st of October. Actually, we wiped nearly half of the 8th Battalion out before they surrendered." Johannes felt the need to shrug. He knew what he had seen, and damned if they were trying to catch him out. He also knew of the 8th battalion's capture, and started wondering if it was all linked.

"Heir, the medic was wearing the badge of the 2nd Royal Irish. I can only report that which I have seen with my own eyes."

The man at the desk narrowed his eyes at Johannes, pursing his lips. It came apparent to Johannes that there was something going on that he had no knowledge of. The death of the general was no mere inconvenience to those men.

"Why was this man so important to Albert so that he made such a risk?" The question was barked out at him. Johannes tried not to flinch at the sudden loud noise.

"Gefreiter Spetcht. He was running intelligence for us. He had returned from the Allied side with locations of gun emplacements and depo points. He had been badly wounded while returning to our side." He paused for a moment to meet the eye of the man in front of him, "He found the name of the man who stole the piece of eden from us." The man who had remained silent throughout the entire discussion shifted slightly. Johannes bent over and opened the attache case at his feet, retrieving a single leaf of paper.

"Private Patrick Taggart. Also of the 2nd Royal Irish, 8th Battalion. Captured at Le Pilly on the 21st of October." He paused for a second, letting his words sink in. "It appears that the private sent the piece of eden back to Ireland or England before he was captured. Spetcht was unable to determine its exact location."

The man who had remained silent throughout the entire discussion rose and nodded to both men. He turned and walked out of the office, briefly making eye contact with Johannes.

"Albert always had excellent intelligence. Its incredibly distressing to lose such a resource." The comment came from the man behind the desk, addressed to the remain man by the fire.

"He can be replaced." The hard hearted comment came as he pushed himself out of the wingback chair. He made his way over to Johannes, standing directly in front of him, running an appraising eye over the aide. Johannes started to feel very uncomfortable again, the weight of the gaze churning his stomach.

"Heir Johannes Burger, aide to General Erich Albert. Thank you for your hard work and dedication to the German Empire and the Templar cause. Your re-assignment will be given to you shortly. In the meantime, you will be a guest of this house." Johannes felt relief wash over him. A small breath escaped his lips before he could stop it. He nodded in acknowledgement to what had been said and bent over to pick up the attache case at his feet.

"General's, I come will General Albert's personal attache case. It carries very sensitive documents. Intelligence, plans and correspondence for both the german empire and templars."

"Very good Burger. You may leave now" Was the only acknowledgement he received. He handed the case to the man in front of him before striding out, quietly closing the doors behind him.

* * *

Leto stood at the Animus, watching Casey in his memory of his ancestor. She had not been their long, having just returned from re-booting another Animus that had developed a glitch. She wasn't interested in the history. Especially the fighting and death. To her, war was all a waste. A waste of life, of resources, of energy. She couldn't understand why people just couldn't get along with each other. And history had a habit of repeating itself.

Still, it was very interesting seeing how people had lived in days gone by. Over the past couple of years of watching others live through the lives of their ancestors had given her the desire to do the same. Apparently according to her DNA, she had had no one interesting as an ancestor. It was one of the first tests that they had done on her when she joined Abstergo. But now she was thinking that even if they were nobodies, she wouldn't mind meeting the people who made up her family.

She watched Casey's great grandfather Johannes walk upstairs. The building he was in was beautiful. The wood paneling and wallpaper complementing each other. At the head of the stairs was a beautiful stained glass window with an almost abstract pattern too it. She thought she could pick out a stylized symbol, but it really was not very clear. Johannes seemed to be deep in thought as he moved. Along a corridor, he found a small duffle bag leant up against a door. Picking it up, he moved inside to what looked like a small bedroom.

A soft beeping came from her tablet. An alert that another of the animus was experiencing problems. Leaving Casey inside his ancestors memory, she picked up her tool bag and wandered through the cubicles to fix the problem. She giggled to herself. Most of the time she could 'fix' and animus just by turning it off and on again. Not that her and John ever mentioned that to anyone else. It would break the perceived magic touch the two liked to cultivate. It kept some of the historians in line when they liked to lord it over the technicians.

* * *

_ok, some notes on this chapter._

_-General Erich Albert was an Ubisoft creation and was killed by an unknown Assassin during the Christmas Truce of 1914. Check out the AC wiki. __However, the rest of details are of my own creation and history._

_-The Christmas Truce was most prevalent at Ypres. The christmas truce, which not only happened at Ypres but also along other parts of the front lines was where basically all fighting stopped for christmas. Sometimes even longer. It was not something sanctioned by officers in charge, but orchestrated by the men fighting in the trenches. It has been well documented how football matches were held in no-mans land, and opposing forces mingled, exchanging gifts of food, cigarettes and buttons from uniforms._

_-Leinster was a name of a building on the german side of the Ypres trenches. Its from Map Sheet 28 NW4. It was the closest trench map to 1914 that I could find_

_-The Royal Warwickshire Regiment, was one of the regiments fighting at Ypres at that time. _

_-Waregem was well behind the German lines by this point._

_-The 2nd Royal Irish 8th Battalion lost 257 out of 578 before they surrendered. They were holding a forward position at Le Pilly. This happened between 19-21 October 1914. At this point I Corps had just reached Ypres pushing the germans back._

_-oh, and Gefreiter is the german name for the rank of Private._

_And thank you TurtleFeathers for your review :)_


	4. The Mantra

_I dont own Ubisoft._

_Please be aware that I have changed the rating of this to M. I wasn't sure if was I was writing was suitable for T. Especially the next chapter._

* * *

'Templars and Assassins.' Fingers twisted the wires together.

There was a pattern, for sure. But the connection seemed tantalizingly out of reach.

Leto sat cross legged on the floor, soldering iron in hand. The fumes from her work were making her feel a little light headed. Dizzy almost.

What she had seen could not be unseen. It disturbed her in that she realised there was something going on. Way beyond her pay grade. Something that fitted with the clandestine nature of Abstergo.

Little molten silver orbs dropped and coated the ends of the wires she held. They formed a perfect bond, so smooth and shiny. She carefully cleaned off the tip of the soldering iron, and double checked the wire connection.

'Templars and Assassins.' It rung through her mind again.

She shook her head, trying to clear the gut feeling to run. She had never really paid any attention to the animi recordings. Only when the bugs and glitches appeared. But now, in the space of an hour, three unrelated incidents formed a pattern in her mind.

'Three. Its not a pattern' she reasoned with herself.  
'Three killings make you a serial killer' her brain retorted.  
'Three can still be coincidence, especially over the centuries'  
'omne trium perfectum' she snorted to herself, delighted that she had remembered some latin.

Her tablet softly beeped at her. The message flashing on the top of the screen.  
'**Meeting at 1145. My office. **'

As succinct as ever she noticed. The damn jobs worth was going to probably lord it over them like he normally did. And 1145? She doubted the meeting would be over in 15 mins, so that meant he was cutting into her lunch break. The bastard.

Using the tablet and connecting wires, she checked the voltage and resistance though the newly soldered section.

Casey, Jane and Lucy.

The moment that german officer thanked Casey's great grandfather for his service to the templar cause, she picked up on it. It seemed so odd and out of place. Here was a german officer being debriefed by his superiors. About what, she didn't know. She had only come in at the tail end of the conversation. But she had never read in any of the history books about the germans and templars. Hitler had a fascination with the occult, but he wasn't on the scene yet. Who were these templars, and what were they doing? It had piqued her interest at the time, but not enough to make her stop and ask questions...

She started pushing the mass of wires back into the animus.

When she had been called away from Casey's session, it had been to deal with a problem Jane was having with her machine. John had apparently been on a smoke break otherwise she wouldn't have been alerted. The poor woman was stuck. Literally on pause. It was a very simple problem to fix, which was why Leto had not bothered to extract Jane from her session. Rather, just re-loaded the memory from the last point and let her get on with it.  
What she had seen on screen was more than a little disturbing. Jane's ancestor was doing her 'business', her client sprawled out underneath her. Leto was a little flustered at the antics portrayed on screen. Porn really was not her thing. Except, just as Leto was closing down the screen, Janes ancestor went all Basic Instinct on her client. She just pulled out a dagger, well, more of a cross or crucifix, from under a pillow and stabbed him. His eyes wide, gurgling his last breaths, she leant forward and whispered "Assassins should learn that when they fuck with Templars, we will just fuck you right back"  
Leto was momentarily frozen in shock at what she had just seen. Her hand slammed down on the close button, shutting off the live feed. She just stood there, staring at the blank screen. Comprehension was slow, and she found herself struggling to reason with what she had witnessed.

Leto had wandered out of Janes cubical in somewhat of a daze. Heading down the corridor to the opposite end of the floor, she had gone over to the break room to clear her mind. Lucy was ahead of her, also heading in the same direction, but she had not paid Leto any attention. As she drew nearer the break room, she caught the exchange between Lucy and someone else

"So, hows our Assassin doing? Better than the last one you had up there I hope" came the unknown voice. It sounded like one of the researchers.

"Its too early to tell. Subject 17 has a long way to go before we can extract anything useful" came Lucy's terse reply. She came storming out, carrying a pile of clean clothes. Leto jumped out of her way as she rushed off. Leto looked after her, then back at the break room. The tablet in her tool bag beeped with an alert about a faulty circuit. Still in a daze, she wandered off to fix it.

'Templars and Assassins.'

As Leto completed repairs on the animi, her mind went over and over the recent events. Unable to rest, or draw any logical conclusion. There was a pattern, but it did not make sense.

* * *

John sat at a private workstation, scowling at the code in front of him. It had been a careless mistake he knew. The assassin had not been ready for animation. To have added him into the matrix sim was a mistake. Far too early obviously. He had not counted one anyone using the sim, the only relief being that it was only Leto, and the programme had not worked.

As he scrolled through the code, trying to find the errors, he munched away on a big mac. Little crumbs the shreds of lettuce falling everywhere.

The damn girl had nearly been the death of him. As soon as she had said anything, he had pulled up the sim, and removed the assassin avatar, being careful to cover his tracks this time. Good thing too. Barely 20 mins later, the sim was accessed by security and Peter Smith. Well, at least that gave him a time frame to work with. It took around 20 mins for the peeping tom listening bugs to flag anything up, then get a security handler to do something about it.

Stuffing the remains of the burger into his mouth, he glanced at his watch. The meeting with Peter was in 10. Something he was not looking forward to. Worry niggled in his stomach that he hadn't covered his tracks enough. Couldn't do anything about it now. If only he could perfect this programme. He knew it wasn't a serious meeting, Leto was also attending. And the girl was innocent and naive. How she managed it after working here for a couple of years, he didn't know. But she remained the chirpy space cadet he had met on his first day here. Sometimes he wanted to scream and slap her for being so blind to what was going on around here. For being so stupid to believe the lies being fed to her. Being surrounded by the enemy made him forget that most of the world's population was oblivious to the war being raged. It had been like that for centuries, and if they didn't stop the templars, it would continue on for a lot longer. Sometime he wished he didn't know too. They say ignorance is bliss.

He growled in frustration and punched the side of the desk. The code on the programme was perfect. He could not understand what was wrong. He had built it as a type of virus. One specifically for the animus. It would hunt down live memory simulations, then put the machine into a feedback overload. It was supposed to put the person in a coma and lock the machine out. And although he hadn't tried it out yet, it should have worked. He knew the seeker/hunter part of the code worked. He had introduced that to the animi system weeks ago to test it out. The other half of the programme, the feedback coma causing part he had only finished writing. He wanted to test it on someone, a new recruit who could be blamed for causing a malfunction or having an unknown medical condition. The matrix sim was perfect. Too many moving bodies to notice the assassin. Then, with the animus in lockdown, the last memory couldn't be accessed for analysis, so no one would know. There were fail safes of course. He knew how to reverse the problem. Whether or not there would be any brain damage he couldn't say for sure. When the programme found a target, it first analyzed its DNA & genetic memories to determine allegiance. He didn't want himself or who ever was subject 17 to fall victim.

The programme was designed to be untraceable. He had only programmed it to render into an assassin man as a touch of irony, and to make it easier to work on the programme when in sim. But it had not worked. Instead, Leto had seen it and almost blown everything.

His watch softly beeped an alarm. Cursing when he realised he was going to be late, he hurriedly saved and locked his work station.

* * *

She wasn't happy as she trudged her way over to the elevator. She knew her mind was not about to let it go. Gently pressing the call button, she allowed her eyes to drift into a thousand yard stare as she waited.

Assassins. People who are hired to kill people. That was simple enough. Not something she could look into. Merely a generic term.

Templar. Knights Templar? Guardians of the holy grail? She wasn't sure that Indiana Jones was the most trustworthy source of information, but that was the only reference point she had. Had they been real? Was it the same knights of the round table and King Arthur? Why were they trying to kill the assassins? Why not bring them to justice? Why all the secrecy? Why was there an assassin here, and why refer to them as subject 17? Were there other subjects? Testing on, or enhancing?

The doors parted in front of her with a soft ping. Entering the elevator she swung around to press the button and spied John lumbering down the corridor at a fast pace. Panting heavily, yet not moving fast, he was the embodiment of obesity. He flapped a hand to in communication for her to hold the lift.

He almost fell into the lift when he arrived, looking like that was the most exercise he had had in years. Yet another thing that was ruining her day, having to share a confined space with someone with such bad body odor.

She couldn't leave the lift fast enough when the doors opened, and bolted down the corridor, John plodding along behind her. Her mind reeled as she approached his door causing her steps to slow. She had never noticed it before, her brain always dismissing it as a poor excuse for aesthetics, but there before her was a cross. The door had a cross on it. She frowned, realising she was being silly. All the doors had crosses on them. It meant nothing.

The door swished open and she walked into Peter's office. He was standing with his back to her, looking out over the animi room.

"oh, there you are Miss Day. Its nice to see you arrive on time for a meeting for once. Do come in Mr Triggs. Try not to drip too much sweat on the floor. In fact, may I make a suggestion. You may wish to take advantage of the fine gym Abstergo provide. A healthy body is a healthy mind you know.

Now then, let's talk about this past week's performance..."

Leto zoned out, Peter's words falling on deaf ears. Her eyes were glued to the painting on one of the walls. A massive masterpiece. A scene of battle. A black stallion rearing up, wearing a chainmail head piece that covered its flanks. A white caparison covered its hind quarters, a red cross clearly visible. The soldier astride the animal held a bloodied sword aloft. Covered head to toe in armour, a white tunic tabard was draped from his shoulders, also displaying a red cross. It was like a scene out of Indiana Jones. Except, on the floor, under the hoofs of the horse was a fallen figure, dressed in white robes, a hood covering his face. The figure was dirtied and carried a mortal wound to his breast, obviously have been cut down by the soldier astride the horse.

The red cross

The white robes

Fragments of memories started to flash through her mind. Memories of catching glimpses of other crosses from animus recordings. People carrying daggers. White robed men causing a massacre then vanishing. The man on the crowded street of John's sim, staring at her... She felt nauseous, light headed. Fear rose from her stomach. She did not know why. She did not know anything at all she realised. She had stumbled onto the corner of a secret. She closed her eyes, but the image of the painting was burned into her mind.

It had become her new mantra.

'Templars and Assassins.'

* * *

_omne trium perfectum= is latin phrase for every set of three is perfect. Its part of the Rule of Three._


	5. Being Pushed

**I still dont own AC or Ubisoft**

* * *

"God Leto, you look like you've seen a ghost? What the hell is wrong? You could have backed me up in there."

Johns voice cut through the silence of the elevator ride, piercing the fog that was surrounding her brain. The picture had been overwhelming. A slap in the face. She felt slightly betrayed, knowing that secrets were being kept from her. Another reminder that people didn't see her as important. That even her employer didn't trust her. Through the fear, confusion and puzzlement she felt an underlying current of anger.

She turned, staring at John. Was he in on it all? Did they trust him more than they trusted her? Did he have any idea what was going on, or was he just as clueless as she was? He stared back at her, worry and annoyance written across his face. Mainly annoyance she noticed.

"um, sorry. I, ah" she struggled to come up with an excuse. Lying wasn't one of the things she was very good at. Half truths she could do, " it was the painting. It, um, kinda freaked me out" she admitted to him. Hoping he would drop the matter.

"Fricking crappy time to get freaked out. That man must think we are miracle workers. Now because of your freak out session, all the animi have to go in for an overhaul. In a gorram week!"

The doors sprung open, revealing the animi room. She turned to look at John.

"What? What do you mean overhaul?" she spluttered, slightly shocked

"God, we were in the same meeting! Were you seriously not listening?" he scowled at her, "This is all your fault! And damned if I'm gonna do this all by myself. Just get your two lines rebuilt and keep up todate with maintenance requests. I'm not going to babysit you" He pushed past her, his heavy bulk pushing Leto up against the doorframe of the elevator. As his words sunk in, and her brain went into work mode.

"Wait! What? Thats 15 machines! It takes almost a whole day to overhaul one of them. Thats not enough time!" it came out of her mouth in a rush. John turned to stare at her, disgust flashing across his face.

"Well yeah! And if you had been paying attention up there, you would have worked that out ages ago, and not left it up to me to try and fight off Smith. Now, because you" he stabbed a pudgy finger at her, 'wouldn't back me up, we only have a week." He stormed off, as fast as his overweight body would allow him.

* * *

Peter watched the exchange with a smug satisfaction on his laptop, the CCTV feed coming to him live. Divide and conquer, all to easy, and so effective. Those two will be at each others throats for quite some time now. It had not been the way he had envisaged it. Leto had never given his painting more than a second's glance before today. He turned to admire it himself. I was a screenshot from his own memory, the victory of one of his own ancestors. Of course, he had had to make a few modifications. Poetic license. In reality, his ancestor had been surrounded by bodyguards and soldiers. By that point of the battle, everyone was dirty and injured. The white of his tabard and the caparison of his horse having been torn, muddied and bloodied during the fighting. The sword had long been dropped having been shot in the shoulder and a leg with arrows. The one assassin had brought down 23 of his own men before being struck in the back with a sword. Once he had gone down, the remaining men pounced on him. Death had been far too swift in Peter's mind.

He stood there, reflecting on the painting, and Leto's sudden odd behaviour. It was quite possible that she had stumbled across something. But no one was researching the crusades at the moment, only Viddic and his staff upstairs with their little project were doing anything close to the time period, so it was unlikely she had seen anything similar. Wandering over to his computer, he flicked open Leto's movement and interaction file. She had only been logged into 7 separate animus sessions, all well under 60 seconds each he noticed. Each were due to a technical issue, and that was not enough time to see anything of worth. She hadn't even spoken to anyone apart from himself and John.

It was probably just her time of the month he concluded.

* * *

Casey came too with a gasp. He rolled off the animus, desperately trying to get away from the things he had seen. He fell to the floor, the emergency extraction from the middle of an animus session having messed up his motor neuron processors, his body struggled to cope with the sudden separation from the machine. Sweat pouring down his face, he lunged for the wastepaper basket, grabbing it in time to throw up in it. The stench of his own vomit, and the memory of the smell of the scene he had just witnessed made him keep retching.

He knew he had to get a hold of himself. Pull it together. He closed his eyes and lent his head back against the cool outer casing of the animus. This had been worse then when he had to research one of the knights from the Knights Teutonic. Life had been brutal back then, but at least it had been through the eyes of a young boy servant, kept in the port quarters never being allowed to exit into the city without a guard. Not that the boy had done that often, the smell of Acre putting him off.

But what he had seen in the mansion at Waregem had been truly distressing right to the bottom of his soul.

When he, well, his ancestor had climbed the stairs, he had noticed the Assassins symbol in the stained glass. Both he and Johannes knew then that the former occupants had not escaped with their lives. But it was the brutality that had shocked both men. They were not soldiers or fighters, but men of paper and words. Johannes had been a bank clerk before the war, for the templars of course, but still a clerk. Casey a historian. He would still be at Oxford university had he not be asked to participate in the Animus Project. A doctor no less, had had an excellent place in the faculty. Committed to the Templar cause, he gave it all up to play his small part to bring order to the chaos of the world .

He pushed the basket away from him and ran his hands through his black hair. A blinding headache was ripping through his brain, but it was that things he had seen that were making his heart palpitate.

After Johannes had checked his room and personal effects, he had wandered around the mansion, just out of curiosity. The upper levels were empty. It looked like everyone had just walked out and left, leaving a book of poetry open at a page, needlework mid stitch, a letter to a family friend half written, the pen lying neatly across the page.

Casey didn't know why Johannes went into the children's play room. But the horrific scene that confronted him was almost too much for his brain to comprehend.

The soldiers had not spared the children. There had been three of them, a boy no more than 7. And two girls, one just entering puberty and a chubby little thing, no more than 4 or 5. It was the brutality. They hadn't just been executed, but tortured to death. The room stank of decay and evil. Only the most evil and vilest of person could have done what they did to innocent children

Johannes had ran out of the room and promptly thrown up in the corridor outside. Casey couldn't stand it either, and his mind had rebelled from what he was seeing. Refusing the connections of the Animus, subconsciously he was desperate to wipe the memory from his mind. He couldn't force the image of the elder girl, eyes open in the glassy stare of the dead, her mouth open in a silent scream, face twisted in agony.

The torture of children. This surely couldn't be condoned by the Templars. Yet the carved cross marks on her body vividly stated otherwise. And the constant hangings and random killings that the Knights Teutonic seemed to thrive on? The profiting from the war his great grandfather had participated in?

"Sweet mother of Mary. What have I done?" Was all he could whisper to himself.

* * *

Leto was feeling frustrated. She was making mistakes, working slowly, she was distracted, and she knew it.

The Animus in front of her had the hardware checked, and changed where necessary. That was the easy part. Re-calibrating the software interface with humans was the hard part. The technology was difficult, like someone had smashed together something from the stone age with tech from the very distant future. Thats why it took so long to do.

She sat on the floor, sifting through executive codes and diagnostic reports, but her mind was dwelling on the white figure. Before she realised it, she had pulled up John's matrix sim, loading it onto the Animus. She wanted to see for herself. Find answers. She itched to jump into the Animus and find them, but that would just waste time. Time was something she didn't have.

Her tablet emitted an alarm, pulling her mind back to reality. Glancing at the pop up, she saw it was an emergency Animus extraction. Frowning, she saw it was Casey. Emergency extractions were very rare, and was very hard on the body of the person in the Animus, sometimes even causing brain damage. Concern for Casey welled up in her chest, and she dashed out of the cubical, over to the next row.

She rounded the corner, and hair flying out behind her. Through the glass she could see Casey on the floor, hugging his legs, his head burried in his knees. She pushed open the door to his cubicle.

"Carsey! Are y..graargh" her words cut off as she gagged on the overwhelming stench of vomit. She back peddled out into the clean air of the corridor, fighting to urge to empty the contents of her stomach.

"Leto" Casey's weak voice called after her. She turned to find him, gripping onto the door frame, his skin a sallow colour of yellow, covered in a greasy sheen of sweat.

"You have to do something for me." He rasped. He blinked several times and shook his head as if he was trying to clear his head and vision. "Please, please, I need you to fix the last 30 seconds of my last memory." He brought his hands up to his head, and slowly started sliding to the floor. Leto rushed forward to grab his shoulders. He just looked up at her and gasped "Just fix it" he implored her before his eyes rolled up and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Leto struggled to keep upright as Caseys weight pushed her backwards. Gracelessly, she fell to the floor, trying not to drop him and bash his head.

"Help! Over here!" She yelled out, she could hear the medical crew rushing out the elevator at the other end of the animi room. They must have been alerted at the same time she had. She looked down at Casey, his head lying in her lap and brushed a stray lock of hair away from his closed eyes. She felt so helpless as she watched his raspy breathing. She didn't understand his request to her either. Looking up she saw the medical team turn into the row, the gurney wheel squeaking as it made the corner.

"He's here! He's here." Desperation leaked into her voice. The crew arrived, and she was roughly pushed away. The medics didn't ask her anything, so focused on getting stats, the medical jargon going straight over her head. Leto scrambled to her feet, wringing her hands as she watched Casey being lifted onto the gurney, an oxygen mask already over his face. The medics only paused long enough for one to insert a cannula for a saline bag, and they were off again. Leto was left standing in the corridor by herself, empty sterile wrappings littering the floor.

The Animi floor which had been quite only a few minutes ago was now alive with murmuring, people sticking their heads out of their cubicles. She saw John standing half in, half out of a cubicle, a new processor in his hand, regarding the scene with a look she couldn't quite place. Nervously running her hands through her hair, she glanced up and spotted Peter in his office watching Casey being wheeled away, a bland look of disinterest on his face. She felt a shiver go up her spine as she looked at him.

Ducking her head, and covering her nose, Leto went into Caseys cubicle. Grabbing the plastic bag in the waste basket, she twisted it shut, trying to stop the smell permeating any further. She paused for a second before placing the waste basket and putting it just outside the cubicle, leaving it for the cleaners to deal with. At least if it was outside, maybe the cubicle wouldn't smell so bad she thought.

Leto stood, hands on the Animus controls, trying to figure out what Casey ment by fixing the memory. She felt so helpless, and useless She wanted to help her friend. But his request had been strange. He knew there was nothing that could be done if the memory was corrupted or degraded. Those lost memories were irrevocably damaged over the years by genetic mutations. Leto pulled up the recordings of Caseys last session, selecting the last 30 seconds before he activated the emergency extraction.

The scene played out in front of her, and her confusion grew. Nothing looked wrong. The visuals were not glitching, Caseys brain activity at the time was normal. And his ancestor wasn't doing anything special, just wandering around an old house. She squinted at the screen, trying to find the issue, trying to find anything. Leaving the memory running, she pulled up the biometric scans, trying to see if Casey had had a bad reaction, but the blood levels all looked normal.

But as she watched, the charts explode. Heart rate went through the roof, massive adrenaline surge, she quickly flicked back to the memory viewer to see what Casey's ancestor was doing. Her hands flew to her mouth and a strangled sob escaped her lips as she caught sight of the children. She watched Johannes throw himself from the room and vomit, then the memory disintegrated as Casey forced his mind to break the connection with the Animus. She stared at the screen for a few seconds, her ragged breathing making the cubicle feel claustrophobic. Leto wretched a couple of times, the horrific image and the prevailing smell of Casey's vomit combining to cause her stomach to rebel. She knew it must have been a hundred times worse for Casey, the total immersion of the Animus meant he would have seen and smelt everything just as if he had been there.

She shook her head. How was she supposed to fix this? The machine was not broken, nor was the memory.

What had happened to those children, however, was more than seriously disturbing. A darkness clouded her brain as realisation dawned on her. The fix, to fix the memory. He wasnt asking her to fix it, but to fix the situation, what ever that situation was.

He was asking her to delete the memory.

Her breath hitched in her throat. The request was simple. The consequences were not. No Animus session was ever deleted. All data was saved, backed up several times and sent to other facilities around the world. There were security measures in place to make sure a file deletion could not take place. She would be going against the rules set out by Abstergo. She felt uneasy. Aware that even now, her actions and key strokes were being monitored by both the computer and an entire 'human resource management' department. Of course she could hack it, permanently erase the data, she was also very confident that she could cover her tracks, not leave any digital trace of what she had done. Abstergo only hired the best. But would it be biting the hand that fed her?

The image of the little girl swam before her eyes. Why did Casey want this covered up? What had happened to those children was unspeakable. A crime against humanity. A war crime. Why was Casey asking her to cover up a war crime? Uncertainty fueled the unease she was feeling.

The look on Casey's face when he pleaded with her made her mind up.

* * *

John was troubled. Leto's recent behavior was odd, and getting stranger by the hour. He wasn't so sure what to make of her anymore. His face hardened as he read through the logs. He knew what she was doing, but could not work out what her angle was. On purposely manipulating a memory file to distort and destroy the Animus session that had been recorded, that was seriously against the rules.

He typed a few queries and sat back, he was too late to see the original recording. Leto had already deleted it and the back ups. All the back ups. He was impressed she even knew about the server farm in Greenland. The distorted recordings she had replaced it with to fill in the 30 missing seconds were just static. He noticed that she was being very thorough, even manipulating the biometric readings to make it look like Casey had suffered some sort of neural activity failure. She was good, very good, but not quite good enough at covering her tracks. She had not successfully changed one of her own data logs.

It was then he realised why his Assassin Virus had not attacked Leto. He should have realised all along, and he cursed his own stupidity. She was not a templar. She held no allegiance to them, the hunter part of the programme had known that and not attacked her. He had known that all along, yet working at Abstergo had jaded him, making him believe everyone, well, almost everyone had to be siding with the templars.

He reached over, and cracked open a mountain dew as he pondered this new thought. If she wasn't a templar, then why was she hiding a memory? The memory from Casey no less. The man came from a long line of Templars. His family, although never playing a major role in the templars cause, had always been there in history to witness pinnacle events.

Taking a gulp from the can, his eyes bulged as a sudden thought exploded in his brain. Maybe Casey's grandfather had found a piece of eden. The memory had caused an animus overload, or something. Leto was deleting the memory because she was an assassin and did not want Abstergo to get their hands on it.

The thought galvanized him into action, Grabbing a keyboard, he started typing madly. Leto needed help if she was going to get away with this, and he was not about to let a sister fall into the hands of Abstergo.


	6. 6 Degrees of Seperation

**I dont own AC**

* * *

Leto breathed a sigh of relief as she closed down Casey's Animus and computer. The previous few hours of distraction had vanished. She felt completely focused and determined. There were things going on that were being kept secret from her. Now, she was returning the favour. A little piece of pay back. As she erased the Animus logs, she had discovered that it was not the fact that Abstergo had secrets. All companies had secrets, and she was only a technician after all. No, these secrets were clandestine. She felt manipulated, a choice having been stolen from her. The choice of what she didn't know, but it was the manipulation that irked her, that really irritated her soul and lit the fire of determination.

She was going to find out what was going on. She promised to herself as she pushed open the door, exiting Casey's cubicle. A small smile graced her lips as the irony reached her. For all their security, and secret keeping, Abstergo had handed over complete and utter access of the Animi to her and John. And now, Peter with his superiority complex had provided her with the perfect excuse to spend time in one.

The cleaners had been there she noticed. Not a single piece of evidence remained that Casey had collapsed unconscious on that very spot not an hour before. Her gut suddenly twisted in worry. She did not know if Casey was alive, if there had been some sort of neurological failure. She did not even know where he was. She pursed her lips, trying to decide what to do. She realised that she didn't really know a whole lot about Casey. Did he have a wife, a girlfriend, children? Reluctantly, she reached the conclusion that she could not help Casey now, and that her best bet of finding out what was going on resided with the Animi themselves. She could talk to Casey when he came back, if he came back at all.

* * *

Striding briskly from the elevator followed by his team, the chief of Internal Security rolled his shoulders in discomfort. He hated wearing the suit. All his men did. No way to hide a stab vest, or carry the amount of gear and weapons they should. Still, it did give them a secret service look, which was obviously feared as employees got out of their way fast. Walking onto the Animi floor, he noted the maze like set up, dictated by the cooling plants for each Animus. A technological feat, but a nightmare from a security point of view.

He clocked the scientists, and researchers, working diligently in forwarding the Cause and bringing down the Assassins. Not that there was much to bring down now. Only a few cells remained, and those were being moped up. Soon, all the assassins would be eradicated, their secrets found out. It would be a shame when it all ended, there was nothing like being the one to smoke the rats out from their dens and cut them down like the worthless vermin they were.

He subconsciously rolled his shoulders with pride at the thought, puffing out his chest. Reaching his destination, he pushed open the door to the cubicle, barely registering the retreating form of a technician before heading inside. The stale smell of vomit made him squint with distaste as he surveyed the room. His men filed in behind him. Wordlessly they set about on their tasks, photographing, packing up any written reports and notes. Pulling the entire on board data bank from the animus. There were backups he knew, but he liked to have the original recording. He stood pondering the loyalties of the man who's life he was about to turn upside down and inside out. A historian, a researcher. Eighth generation Templar, but not a fighter. He could not trust a man who would not fight for his cause.

* * *

Peter sat in his office. Jane had presented yet another detailed dossier of assassin names and affiliates. He should be thrilled. But all the names were worthless. Her ancestor had done her job very well. She had single handily executed 19 assassins in just a few years. And there lay the problem in Jane's research. It was all a dead end. Her ancestor was methodical and ruthless. She had not let a single suspect escape. Any hint of assassin affiliation, the man, and on one occasion, a woman, would find themselves seduced bedded and just before climax they found their end drowning in their own blood. Jane's ancestor was a mentally disturbed bitch, but a loyal and ruthless one at that. Not once did the assassins suspect it was a prostitute, but at the same time, she was so over enthusiastic that she never held back long enough to extract information from her targets.

He rubbed his temples, feeling a tension headache building. They needed names, histories to trace, locations of books, diaries, codex's, pieces of Eden. Anything to end the assassins reign of terror and allow the Templars to bring about world peace. But his department had not made a break through in weeks. And now Casey was out of action. Out of everyone, Peter had thought that he had been the closest to finding something. General Erich Albert had been an incredibly important asset to the order. His untimely death had struck a considerable blow to intelligence gathered in the Ypres area. His death not only lost the order the front lines of Ypres, but any chance of getting the piece of eden back. Most of the World War 1 memories from Johannes and his son were locked out and inaccessible. Locked out memories always signified something important. Peter had not yet given up, he was sure Casey had valuable information.

He had hoped that Warren was having more luck with his subject. But having spoken to him earlier, he had found out that the process was slow going. The subject was being co-operative, barely. The subjects memories however, were degraded and locked out. Not an uncommon problem, but an annoying all the same.

A thought crossed his mind, and he brought his email up.

* * *

Maria put the kettle on in the dirty little kitchenette. It was more of a supply closet, toilet rolls and cleaning supplies piled on the floor and on nearly every available surface. She sighed and rolled her shoulders. The weather wasn't good, and her arthritis was playing up. It didn't help that she had to do this god awful job. Cleaning toilets is not recommended for someone with a bad back. But she needed the money, and no one was hiring a 66 year old widowed teacher with a state pension that didn't even pay enough for food.

She put instant coffee into a chipped mug she had rescued from a bin a few months back. Abstergo may pay her, better than any other job she had found, but they didn't exactly look after her.

The door to the kitchenette suddenly flew open, smashing into her cleaning cart. The violence of the action made her slop her coffee over the counter as she turned. Two men strode in as if they own the place.

"You cleaned up a mess an two hours and ten minutes ago. Where is it?" The largest thug demanded of her. She had heard the rumors about security. If they fired you, the first place you go is the hospital. She felt threatened she realised. All by herself, the other cleaners were out doing jobs. No one was around for her. To witness anything. She mentally pushed the thought away, telling herself that she was only an old lady who cleaned toilets.

"Yes. Some sort of accident. I cleaned it all up." she replied.

"Where is the rubbish you collected?"

The other man came forward, trying to use his bulk to intimidate her. Maria almost laughed. She had always been small. And after 30 years teaching 16 and 17 year olds, it honestly did not affect her one bit. But the rumors held the mirth back. She did not want to find out if they had any grain of truth in them.

She nodded behind them. "Still in my cart." Both men turned on their heels, and grabbed the cart. Pulling it out from behind the door, the tall one lifted out the rubbish bag and walked out. The other guy just turned back to her as he stepped out the door.

"Thank you for your cooperation Maria" and he left.

Maria raised an eye brow, she couldn't make heads or tails of what had just happened. But then she realised she didn't care. She didn't have to walk a bag full of vomit to the incinerator.

* * *

"There's a good girl." Leto whispered to the Animus infront of her. She felt nervous as she powered up the first Animus that she had just finished overhauling. It was not fully online yet, but she thought that this was probably her best chance of digging into what Abstergo were doing without alerting them. The machine was in safe mode. Isolated from the rest of the network. Its memory banks were only being used to record performance and diagnostic data and would be wiped before being introduced back onto the network. The machine in this state was not supposed to be used to access genetic memories, it was just for test purposes.

She was breaking the rules. Again. If she was not so nervous, she would have found the situation funny she thought. Rooting around in her bag, she flicked through the memory sticks that littered its bottom until she found the one that contained the search programmes. She pushed it into the USB slot, her fingers beginning to sweat with her nervousness. The fear of being discovered almost outweighed the fear of the unknown consequences. She really did not want to lose her job. The programme popped open on her tablet. She had never used it before, not personally anyway. It had been used on her. The first day she got the job at Abstergo actually. They had said it was a neural indexer, just to make sure it was safe for her to use the Animus. It was only months later that she had found out what Abstergo were really using it for. Every employee had to be indexed, they told her that they considered it a foolproof method of rooting out industrial spies. At the time, it had made her fell a little uneasy that they had googled her DNA, but now she felt the reasons behind it were even more clandestine. What if they were really just trying to find and get rid of people of other faiths, assassins, or what ever the Templars were after.

It was the only plan she could come up with. She wanted to know the truth, but didn't know how to go about finding it. Heck, she realised that she didn't even know what she was searching for. She may come across it and not even realise it. Googling 'Templars and Assassins' was a sure fire way to get herself caught. Accessing the mainframe was probably going to be her best bet, but there was so much information, and she doubted that a search index of Templars and Assassins would reveal anything other than a quick appearance by security if she didn't cover her tracks properly. That's why she had come up with the plan to start at the beginning. The first programme Abstergo had used on her. All she needed to do was narrow down her search field, so that when she did break into the mainframe, she would at least know the general area in which to look. Everyone was connected. If she couldn't search modern data, there was a very large possibility that history could help

The programme loaded up, trying to automatically start on the Animus. Opening the code screen, she broke the executive and started searching for the search parameters. The screen filled with a mass of filter options, and she carefully scrutinised the default. From what she could tell, there were three main filter options that had been pre-set. One entitled Brother looked for key phases of 'receptio' and the actions of 'receiving the seal' and 'donning the mantle'. The filter entitled Poison Apple activated a whole host of ancillary actions from red flag emails to an immediate security call out. Leto shuddered as she read that it looked for 'ring finger removal' and 'ring finger branding'. These people seemed really barbaric. What sort of initiation rite permanently disabled a person for life? The last filter she saw was more of an add on. If neither of the previous two filters was triggered, then the subject would have a security clearance downgrade and be poked by security, what ever that meant.

The default was not going to help her. She knew she had to be more specific, even with the little knowledge she had. Her hands hovered over the tablet as she tried to come up with some meaningful criteria. Slowly she wrote

-Find; Interaction with white robed person and/or Assassin and/or Templar

-When; 1000BCE to present

-Action; None

Indecision made her thumb waver as she pressed the execute button and uploaded the programme to the Animus.

The glass door behind her squeaked as someone entered the cubical. Leto jumped out of her skin, dropping the tablet as she spun around. Adrenaline suddenly surging around her body.

"Never seen someone look so guilty." Smirked John from the door way. Leto turned away from him, trying to hide her embarrassment and whatever guilty look she obviously wore on her face. She herd him shuffle into the room.

"So, running final tests? That's a good start. How did you manage to compile the data flow logs so quickly?" He said, glancing down at the tablet on the floor. Leto hastily bent down to pick it up.

"I, um, was using another Animus. Speed it up, you know. Slave the processors." She ran a shakey hand through her hair, her heart hammering so fast that she thought that he must have heard it. John turned to glare at her.

"You know that is not how its supposed to be done. Doing that leaves the slaved Animus open to corruption, not to mention plays havoc with the power regulation. Heck, we could lose the entire machine" He growled to her, talking down at her, telling her off. "Come on Leto. Try and keep it together."

Her nervousness turned into frustration all of a sudden. She turned to face John, her face slack. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to reply, but John beat her to it.

"Look. I know this is tough. Especially when we have been doing it each by our selves. But we can not afford to be sloppy. Look, just keep at it. We both know that we are going to be here round the clock until we get every machine rebuilt. Eating, sleeping, its all going to come second to these babies for the next week. Just don't take any more short cuts ok?" His tone softened toward the end, and Leto could not help but wonder if there was not a second meaning to what he was saying. He turned to leave. "If you are ready to test, just jump right in. I will cover any emergencies that crop up, ok?" He shouldered open the door, not really waiting for her reply.

"Thanks John" Her own voice surprised them both, and he turned back to look at her. A half smile ghosting over his chubby face.

Turning her attention back to the Animus, she knew John had been right about slaving two machines together. It just made everything go that much faster. Sighing, she thought about the search programme. Half of her hoped it would find something. The other half hoped it wouldn't.

Sliding herself onto the bed, the machine whirled into action, and she felt the machine take over, her vision distorting, and then clarifying again as the programme took over. She was in a white room, laying on a simulation Animus. Text appeared on the face screen.

_Please lay still as the Animus runs it scan. Abstergo thank you for you patience._

It was only a short while later that the world dissolved back into the real world. Sitting up and grabbing the tablet, she brought up the search results. Heart in her mouth, she dumbly started at the screen. A list of 10 confronted Leto, her hands gripped the side of her tablet and she jumped off the side of the Animus, wildly staring out of the glass cubical just in case anyone had also seen the list. But no one was looking her way, everyone either laying on an Animus or busily typing away on a computer. It occurred to her that she could be naked right now and no one would even notice, maybe CCTV, but they couldn't be watching every camera 24/7.

Her head snapped back down to the tablet. A list of 10 memory sequences ranging from 1158 to 1945. Nearly a thousand years of history, and the memories seemed to be scattered though out. She was linked. Linked to what, she didn't know. And how she was linked was another question she was nervous about finding out. None seemed to be corrupt or locked out. They were just sitting there, waiting for her to re-live them. "Holy frick on a stick" she breathed. Courage found its way into her body, and she surprised herself by loading up the earliest memory and jumping back onto the Animus.

* * *

She liked Desmond. Liked him more because he had escaped. She envied him a little. He had truly escaped, at least for a little while. Away from the fighting, killing, the orders and the never ending secrets within secrets. He had managed to forget, properly live in the world. Have a real job, friends. Be ignorant of those who came before, thousands of years of conflict and the impending end of the world in only a few months.

But he was the golden egg. His DNA knew everything. She couldn't risk anything at this stage. The brotherhood were trying to get him back, and she didn't think Abstergo could hold him. The brotherhood would not stop until they had him. She always knew it was never a case of if there would be a rescue attempt, but when it would happen. If she wanted first crack at the golden egg, she needed to orchestrate his rescue and escape, stay as close to Desmond as possible. He was the key to everything.

Lucy stood over Desmond carefully monitoring his current session. Altair currently was riding for Jerusalem. It occurred to Lucy that Desmond's ancestor had not just been an arrogant, cocky, egotistical, self-absorbed git in his younger years. But blind and stupid as well. How had Al Mulim blinded the minds of his followers for so long? Forcing them to dance for his own personal agenda, making a mockery of their beloved creed.

It was just the same today. Nothing had changed over the centuries. The brotherhood was still as corrupt as it was back then. Its members all dancing to the same tune, manipulated by one person. Anger and betrayal simmered in her gut and she forced herself to concentrate on her job.


	7. Assassins Benevolence

**Thanks Blissful catatonia :)**

* * *

A small caravan of 30 people and animals slowly proceeded along the dusty road. The travellers were thankful that they has passed the last checkpoint with no problem, and their destination was almost in sight. The trek over the desert had almost been as arduous as the mountain roads. But as the distance decreased to their destination, the sadness and unhappiness seemed to grow within Saja. She couldn't understand it. She knew it was a privilege. She would bring great honour to her family. All her friends back home had been jealous when she told them why she was leaving. Thinking of her friends and her home made her feel sick almost to the point of tears. She would never see them again. She already missed the hot crowded streets of Jerusalem, the constant noise. Everything that was familiar to her had been left far behind. She had not even been allowed to bring her favourite doll with her on the trip. Her vision blurred as the tears threatened to spill, and she stumbled over a little rock on the road

"Saja! Saja, are you ok?" Her mother rushed over, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you tired, thirsty?" She didn't wait for Saja to answer, grabbing the nearest water skin from off a donkey and putting it into Saja's hands. "You need to drink, keep you strong." Saja humbly did as she was instructed. She hated how her family were treating her. Giving her extra water and food. Making her ride on a donkey for some of the trip. As she handed the water skin back, her mother gripped her chin.

"Saja, have you been crying?" Saja shook her head, not wishing to displease her mother. Her mother sighed. "Saja, if you cry, you make your face red and puffy. It makes you look undesirable. You must not cry. You should be happy." Saja lowered her eyes, mumbling an apology. Her mothers face softened for a moment, and she reached out to stroke the top of Saja's head. "Little one, I know you are worried. A new place to live, new people to meet. I know you are sad to leave your home and friends behind. But, you will grow to love your new life. And you are making me very happy. Your baba is very proud. You honour the family. Very few people are given this opportunity. Embrace it little one." Saja looked up at her mother and gave her a weak smile. Her mother reached down and gave the small girl a hug before adjusting her head scarf. "Don't want you getting sunburnt now do we"

Mother and daughter hurried along the road to catch up with the rest of the family caravan.

_Fast forwarding to a more recent memory_

The watchmen spotted the caravan long before it arrived at the village gates. Word quickly got around the village and people gathered in the main square and the market to welcome the travellers. It was early evening and there was a real celebratory atmosphere among those gathered.

As the caravan approached the village gates, a small party of men, dressed in their finest clothes walked out to meet them. Saja had been placed upon a donkey, her mother wrapping a beautiful ornate cloak around her shoulders and placing a dark veil over her head. Saja was uncomfortably hot under all the layers, and the veil obscured her vision so much she felt slightly panicked. As they neared the village, Saja's father motioned for the rest of the caravan to halt, and took the halter of the donkey. Looking back up at his daughter, he offered her a smile.

"Take courage little one, and make us proud." He said before pulling the donkey along to meet the welcoming party.

"Salem halal combe!" Saja jumped slightly as her father yelled the greeting to the men ahead. An old man at the front of the group raised his hands and returned the greeting, his voice booming loudly off the cliffs surrounding the village entrance. She felt her father tug on the halter trying to encourage the donkey make haste. Saja tried to take the scene all in, the road winding its way to the village through a narrow little canyon, the village scattered up the flanks of a mountain. A huge, foreboding fortress sitting proudly atop. Behind the men, she could make out a stable and the village gates. A small fountain stood in the center of the square just beyond where people seemed to be gathered waiting. Waiting for her and her family she realised.

As they reached the welcoming party, her father dropped the halter and embraced the old man. Saja sat atop of the beast of burden studying the men that had come to greet them. The veil made things blurry, but meant that they couldn't see her staring at them. She tuned out the long, formal greetings of the father and the old man. There were lots of hugging and asking after relatives, businesses, friend, acquaintances even animals. The old man wore long dark robes. Even in old age, Saja was surprised to see how vigorous he looked, broad shoulders and muscular arms. He looked nothing like her own grandfather, or the wise men who sat on benches around Jerusalem. They were stooped over, frail and weak, whereas he seemed to be as sturdy as an ox. She noticed the similarities between the men, the old man obviously being the patriarch, and the younger men his sons and grandson. Her eyes were drawn to the youngest member of the group. He looked to be a handsome young man, not very tall, but with wide shoulders and a neatly trimmed beard that had only just started to fill out. She felt her stomach drop in fear, bile rising in her throat as she realised who he was. Her future husband stood only yards away, and yet he was a complete stranger. He was staring directly at her, his face a blank mask. The fear in her heart just kept growing and she dropped her head, wringing her hands under the cloak.

Distantly, she heard herself being introduced, and inclined her head just as her mother had instructed her to do. The patriarch clapped his hands announcing that they had prepared a feast in honour of their arrival. Not that she was going to be able to join in the festivities. The bride would be whisked away to a house to be prepared for the wedding in a few days time. She knew what was going to happen next, but she still felt some trepidation as she watched her father walk off with the patriarch, leaving her sitting there on the donkey. She watched as her fiance strode past her to meet her mother and the rest of the family to formally welcome them. The other men approached her slowly. They were both wearing long white heavy robes, just like the scholars she had seen in the libraries and places of learning in Jerusalem. Although, this was the first time she had seen scholars wear swords on their hips.

"I am Al Tayyib, and this is my brother, Sahir." Al Tayyib said, his voice calm and measured. "_Bintee_, we will escort you to the bridal house." Saja nodded her accent and her donkey was lead to the stables. A small boy, about her age pushed a box out into the road, and her donkey was made to stand next to it. Saja took a deep breath and made a small prayer that she would not trip or fall. She gathered up the fabric of the cloak and as daintily as possible slid off the back of the donkey onto the box before stepping down. Sahir smiled at her. "I bet your mother made you practise doing that. Come. The house is only a short walk. Do not be afraid, the whole village is happy you are here" Saja smiled behind the veil, reassured by the man's words.

She carefully followed behind the two men, remembering that she must not get too close to them. The fountain in the square looked clean and pure, but it was not as ornate as some of the fountains she had seen back at home. As she walked through the village, no one addressed her, but rather everyone directed their greetings to the two men in front. It seemed everyone had turned out to catch a glimpse of the bride. Saja found that she didn't like being the center of attention, she felt very much alone. She saw her father and the patriarch a long way off up the hill, speaking with a large crowd of men. But the two brothers didn't lead her that way. As she passed a small courtyard, she spotted two girls her age playing with a ball. They stopped playing when they saw her and one gave her a little wave. She fought the impulse to throw off the heavy garments and go and join them. They continued to lead her to a familiar sight of a blacksmiths yard, and to a small door to a small cottage nearby. Al Tayyib opened to the door for her.

"Bintee, we have arrived." Al Tayyib turned to her. Saja felt her mind go blank. She could not remember what she was supposed to do. Never before had she been in the company of strange men for so long without the presence of her father or mother. Panic started to make her shake. Sahir seemed to read her mind.

"Child, you have done well. Go inside, make tea and await the arrival of your mother." Sahir said pursing his lips and throwing a glance at his brother. Saja sighed softly behind her veil and nodded her head as a sign of respect before walking into the house. Turning to close the door behind her, she watched the brothers raise their hoods. The words "Thank you" were out of her lips before she could stop herself, but neither of them looked displeased by her little slip up of etiquette. They both just nodded before walking away.

_Fast forwarding to a more recent memory._

Preparations for the upcoming nuptials ramped up, and Saja was treated like a minor celebrity. The constant stream of female visitors, having to wear her best clothes and keep her face covered as well as trying to remember the proper etiquette was very taxing on Saja. Her mother noticed how she was even more reserved and quiet than usual. The night before the wedding, mother and daughter sat together on floor cushions brushing Saja's hair.

"Are you ready for tomorrow little one?" Saja nodded in reply, thinking of all the questions she wanted to ask her mother.

"What if he doesn't like me?" Saja hesitantly asked in a small voice. Her mother paused mid stroke as if contemplating the question.

"You will make a wonderful wife Saja." she whispered to her daughter. "You will bear your handsome husband many strong, healthy children. You will learn how to make him happy, just like I learnt how to make your father happy. It will take time little one. Manage your house well, fill his belly, listen to his words and keep him warm at night. He will be proud to call you his own."

Saja turned slowly to look at her mother. "I don't want you and baba to leave. I..." Her eyes started to fill with tears, and her mother ran a hand down her cheek.

"Don't cry little one. You are a woman now. You don't need this old woman or her husband any more. Besides, you will see us. I expect you to introduce me to my grandchildren. Don't forget that your marriage will be joining our families together. Your baba is so proud, the Isra of Masyaf joined with the master swordsmiths of the holy city. You are the one who will do this. Not your father, or your brothers, but you." she buried her face in her daughters hair, taking a big breath. "I have taught you well, I know that you will do your very best, and that your very best will make Kahil very happy." She kissed the top of Saja's head. "Now, no more talk. You need your rest. Tomorrow will be a very long day."

_Fast forwarding to a more recent memory._

The day passed in a blur. Saja felt herself being overwhelmed, the people, the food, the noise, the smells. It didn't seem to stop. Her mother and father looked so proud. Her brothers seemed to have made friends so easily in the village. Even her extended family had be welcomed and made to feel at ease. Everyone seemed to make the time to come and speak to her husband and offer a few words of greeting and congratulations to her after. One person in particular seemed very important to the village. He appeared late in the afternoon. Saja only noticed his presence when the noise of the festivities became muted, everyone becoming hushed in their conversation. People moved out of his way while respectfully inclining their heads. He was an old man, thin, but not sickly. A grey beard adorned his face and he wore an almost ornate black and red set of robes. Saja saw that there were four men accompanying him, all dressed very similarly with white robes, a red sash and hoods drawn up over their heads. She recognised both Sahir and Al Tayyib, but the other men were strangers to her. As the party approached the marriage table, Kahil hurried to stand to greet the newcomer, and Saja followed suit.

"Al Mualim." He said, bowing deeply, "I am greatly honoured that you would attend my wedding."

The old man smiled and inclined his head.

"Kahil, it is my pleasure. News of your wedding has gladdened my heart just as much as hearing the praise I receive about your swordsmith skills. And we have much need of your skills. Now, may I be introduced to your wife?" Kahil bowed and Saja moved forward to stand next to her husband.

"I would like to introduce you to Saja, my wife. Saja, this is Al Mualim, leader and mentor to those who protect us." Saja bowed her head and she felt Al Mualim study her for a moment.

"She will make a fine wife for you Kahil. But please excuse me. I have many things to attend to. I wish safety and peace upon both of you." He said kindly before turning away. Al Tayyib paused briefly to clap his son on the shoulder before he turned to follow Al Mualim.

_Fast forwarding to a more recent memory._

Night descended all too quickly and when Kahil took Saja's hand in his to lead them away, she felt herself resist slightly. He obviously felt it too, for he squeezed her hand to reassure her. Leading her over to her parents, he stood back and watched as his new wife tightly clung to his mother in law for a few moments. His heart went out to the girl as he watched his father in law murmur something to Saja and gently direct her back to him.

They walked in silence back to their home. It had been a gift from his grandfather as a blessing for the union. But he was nervous, and just a little scared.

Saja stood in the middle of the room. She could hear her mother's words the night before, but right now, she didn't know what to do, how to make Kahil happy. He just stood there looking at her.

"Would you like some tea?" she offered hesitantly. She saw him swallow and nod. She quickly busied herself as he reclined on some cushions. She brought the tray over and set it on the floor to pour him the drink when he suddenly spoke up.

"No, I um.." Fear turned her stomach. Alone for a moment, and she had already displeased him. "Saja, I wish you to join me for tea." He motioned at the tray which only had one cup on it. She stared at it, uncomprehending. She only ever drank tea with her mother and other females. If men were around, she then just served the tea.

"Its not my place." she whispered to him. He shook his head at her.

"No, my wife. I want you to have tea with me. I, ah, no, we have many things to discuss." Saja slowly nodded her head, and fetched and extra cup for herself.

She sat curled up on a cushion facing Kahil. The hot tea burning her fingertips through the cup. She stared down at it in silence. The whole situation was so alien. Her mother had spoken to her about her wedding night, but she had not mentioned tea or talking. A chuckle roused her from her thoughts and she looked up.

"How do you plan to drink your tea with your veil and headdress on?" Kahil asked her, a smile across his lips. He leaned forward and carefully removed the tea from her hands and set both their cups on the tray. He paused for a second, before kneeling before her.

"May I remove your veil and headdress?" She shyly nodded, and his fingers gently pulled the fabric and the pins from her hair. She dropped her eyes to her hands folded on her lap. She was scared, for this is what her mother said he would do, come close to remove her clothes, take her virginity and consummate the marriage. But she was scared, she wasn't sure she wanted him to. Suddenly she felt his hand on hers, as he gently pushed her tea back into her hand.

"Saja. It's ok." From the corner of her eye, she saw him settle back down on the cushions. "Our marriage was arranged to strengthen business and family relations. Business is very important, but I do not want you to believe that you are a commodity Saja. Yes, this marriage does open the way for more trading between our two families. Your fathers business requires my skill, and I require the finest metals. Without this marriage, our families and businesses would be rivals, but now there is peace. I may own you Saja, but here in Masyaf, we honour our women and wives. I wish you to be happy here." He paused for a moment. Deliberating what he was going to say next. "Saja, you look young. When I first saw you, I knew that although you had entered womanhood, you had not fully grown. How old are you?" The question took her by surprise. She knew the marriage had been arranged for some years, the condition being that they would wed one full year from the beginning of her menstruations. He obviously had known that, but not her age. "I was 13, 5 full moons ago."

"Hmmm, I thought so. I am 22." He replied to her. "But that is not important. It is just that you are very young, and I don't wish to burden you with knowledge which you cannot bear." Saja frowned at the comment, insulted that he thought her to be stupid as a child. "My father taught me numbers, and I can read many words." Kahil smiled at the comment. "That is not what I meant Saja. I know your father and your mother taught you very well. My grandfather has received many letters from your father regarding your progress. What I mean to say, is that," Kahil took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. Saja then realised that he was more nervous than she. "we have hidden the truth from the world, and I wish to tell you the whole truth before you discover it else where." Kahil sighed. "Saja, what do you know of the Isra family, your new family, our history?"

"It is a very strong, proud family, but with a troubled past." She paused, but Kahil motioned for her to continue. "It is said that from generations ago, the family made a name for themselves as fine metal workers, brilliant blacksmiths and the makers the of the finest swords and weapons. It was said that they became discontent with the endless violence that made their weapons the most sought after, and so they stopped making swords, and the family made pilgrimage, leaving everything behind in Alamut. They became nomads, living in tents, and refusing to acknowledge their family name. In time, generations passed, nations forgot about about their fame, and even their family name. Everywhere they went, they were given the name Isra, for the family only ever travelled at night. In time, the family forgot where they had come from, and their original name, just as the world had. They continued travelling, visiting towns and villages, offering the service of a good blacksmith and metal worker but never to create or mend weapons. But then they travelled to Masyaf. And it was here, under the shadow of the Masyaf castle, filled with scholars that they found peace and a place for their family."

Kahil sipped his tea. "It is a good history is it not, but it is not the complete tale. For it is a tale of redemption. And, although we like to pretend we have forgotten our roots, it is something we hold onto, as a reminder to ourselves, a warning to future generations of our family. Saja, what we will discuss tonight can be spoken to no one else. This is something only a husband and wife can speak about. Do you understand?" Saja nodded, although she didn't understand.

"Saja, our family name was originally El-Hasem." he paused, for he well knew that she would have heard the tales of the El-Hasem family as a child. "They were warmongers, barbaric in their love of violence. Master swordsmiths, but they viewed peace as an enemy. They sold to the highest bidder without care of consequence.

They attracted the attention of an order tasked with bringing peace. The order dispatched assassins to exterminate the family from the face of the world for the crimes they had committed. A pigeon from the assassins to their leader was captured by little 13 year old Hessa. She had been punished by her father and had not eaten for two days, so she had left the house to hunt for food. Hessa found the message and understood what it meant for her and her family. But Saja, she was not afraid, for she too hated the violence and despised her family. Hessa was shrewd and brave. She went and gathered together her mother, two brothers and a cousin then showed them the message. All of them despised the warmongering ways that the family had fallen into to and devised a plan to help the assassins with their mission. They then gathered information and documents and left, heading into the desert, travelling in the general direction they thought the assassins would be. It was only by sheer chance that the two groups crossed paths during the night. Hessa rushed forward to them and falling to her knees in the sand, she begged the assassins to hear her out. She proceeded to tell them how she had captured their messenger pigeon. She apologised for eating it, and dropped a small coin bag at the master assassins feet saying she hoped it covered the cost of a new pigeon. Her brothers and cousin approached, and also falling to their knees, they laid out maps and documents detailing the locations and movements of the El-Hasem family. The mother came forward with Hessa's baby sister and spoke up saying that they all agreed with the assassins mission, that the El-Hasem family had become an abomination and that they all willingly came to this place to die.

The assassins silently surrounded the small group. Never before had quarry come to an assassin. Nor had they ever awaited the assassins blade without fighting back. It was a new situation for the assassins, and they were all looking to the direction of the master assassin. Hessa tugged on the bottom of the master assassins robes causing him to crouch down to the child. She whispered to him that she was scared and begged him to make it quick.

The assassin thought for only a moment before he sat down in front of the small group. He made them speak of everything they knew of their family. He then charged the family with a mission. They were to avenge all those families who had been visited with violence because of the El-Hasem weapons. They were to become nomads and wanderers, and they were to never use the El-Hasem name again. And when they finish, they would be free to settle wherever they chose as long as they upheld peace."

Kahil paused to pour more tea for the both of them. When he settled back, he pulled Saja so that she was sitting next to him.

"That night, the assassins camped around and protected those whom they should have destroyed. The following morning, as the two groups were about to set off in separate directions, Hessa and her mother approached the master assassin once again. The mother wished to show her thanks for the assassins kindness as well as provide surety that they would not break their oath. As matriarch of the new family, she presented the master assassin with Hessa as both a gift and a sacrifice. The master assassin refused, but Hessa fell before his feet and with tears she told him that if he did not want her as a wife, then accept her as a servant. If he did not want her as a servant then he should sell her. If he felt she was worthless, then she could only accept death. She begged him to honour the matriarch of a nomadic family on a mission of redemption.

As the two groups went their separate ways, it was Hessa who went with the assassins. The assassins used the information Hessa's brothers had found wisley and the El-Hasem family fell swiftly. And although the 6 bodies of Hessa and the rest who had helped the assassins were never found, everyone assumed that they had died in the desert at the hands of the assassins.

You know the story of the birth of the Isra family. They wandered the lonely wastes, destroying those who had used their weapons to dominate others. They used their skills in helping poor farmers and workers. It took them 35 years to finish their mission. It was then that they journeyed one final time to Masyaf. As the family group approached Masyaf, they were stopped before the gates, guards wishing to know why such a large party was coming to Masyaf. Hessa's mother had died the year before, and now, Hessa's eldest brother was patriarch. He came and bowed before the guard saying that he and his family came in peace, wishing to settle in Masyaf as blacksmiths and metal workers. The guard brought the patriarch up to Masyaf fortress, to speak directly to the mentor, since the Isra family had grown from its 5 original members to over 20 in the time they had spent as nomads.

The mentor heard the patriarch make his case to settle in Masyaf village. He spent a few moments contemplating the request before turning to the patriarch and said. "No, tell me the truth El-Hasem." The patriarch was shocked and fearful to hear the family name again after so long, and he fell to his knees before the mentor.

"Many years ago I was offered a chance at redemption, to wipe out the sins of my father and his father and his father. Stripped of family and home, we have completed the penance, only one final part of the oath is left to be completed. That we are free to settle wherever we chose as long as we upheld peace. Over the years, we have not been blind to this Order. We know that its members come from these very walls, and are sent out to punish men who would take away peace. I only ask that we may be allowed to live in your shadow and provide you, with any service you request." The mentor smiled at him and said that he would be honoured to have such fine craftsmen working for the Order, and an honourable family to protect." Kahil glanced over at Saja, and saw that she was enthralled with his story.

"That happened over 60 years ago. Our patriarch Ramiz, my grandfather was the first to be born in Masyaf. In that time, we have settled here as the Isra family, and the El-Hasem have become the stuff of children's tales. We do not seek a name for ourselves anymore, but rather, we seek to fill the needs of the Assassins."

Saja felt her brow furrow. "I don't understand. What assassins?" Kahil put his arm around her shoulders.

"Your version of my history had some truth. Masyaf castle is the home to a great many scholars and many books. But it is also the home to the Assassins." He felt her stiffen under his hand. "Its ok. They are not wild murderers, nor do they kill for money. They only punish those who would persecute and oppress. Those who kill for pleasure or monetary gain. This men who wish to rob people of their freeness." He saw her shake her head. "You have even met some Assassins." She turned to him, wide eyed, unbelieving. "Think, everyone today at our wedding who was wearing a white robe with a hood. Some of them are scholars, but most were Assassins. And you know Al-Tayyib my father, and Sahib my uncle. They are both Assassins." He grabbed her hands with his, and turned to her. "Saja, I tell you all this because it is truth. Because you are entitled to know. Because one day, you may be called upon to act, and to make the right decision you need to know the truth. I do not want you to be afraid. The El-Hasem family are dead. The Assassins will protect you, and in return, the Isra support the Assassins by making the best swords and blades." He paused for a second. "Are you ok? Do you understand?"

Saja nodded, thinking for a second. "What happened to Hessa?" She asked. Kahil smiled. "She returned with the Assassins to Masyaf, where the master assassin married her. She bore him 3 healthy sons who also became Assassins. It is said they they fell in love, and when he died, she would marry no one else even though she was still of childbearing age."

"How old was the Master Assassin then?" Kahil turned a quizzical eye on Saja, wondering why she had asked.

"I do not know, but it is a difficult rank to achieve. Most Assassins do not reach the rank of master until late in life, mid thirty or forty. Only recently has an Assassin obtained the rank at an early age."

Saja just nodded at the information before asking "Why are you not an Assassin like your father?" Kahil leaned his head back against the wall.

"Truth be told Saja, I wanted to be an Assassin. When Isra boys come of age, we are given the choice, learn the skills of swordsmithing or become an Assassin. I was all set to become an Assassin, but a week before my birthday, something happened. I was helping to re-shoe a horse, just holding the bridle so it wouldn't move. But the horse became very impatient. It stamped its foot down and I did not move out of the way quickly enough. The horse severed three toes from my foot. An Assassin need to be physically very fit, agile. Without those three toes, I cannot run fast anymore, or balance well. I could never become an Assassin." Saja pursed her lips, hearing the pain in his voice. She wished she hadn't asked him, because it was obviously still a very sore subject. She reached out, and patted his hand. "I'm sorry." She whispered. He just shook his head.

"It has worked out well Saja. I have great talent with metal working, and as a wedding gift, Ramiz our patriarch has given me my inheritance. I own the house and the blacksmith and now I have a beautiful wife." He smiled down at her, pleased at the smile on her face.

"Come" He said simply, pulling her onto her feet. The small cottage started to pixelate out, The blue fog enveloped Kahil and the scene disappeared. Leto was left standing there incredibly relieved that she wasn't about to experience the wedding night. She brought up the Animus interface and saw that it had ended her session because she had been in there for 3 hours.

She should pull out now, so it wouldn't be suspicious, but she wanted to find out what happened to Saja and Kahil. More than that, she needed to find out more about the Assassins. Kahil had been very cryptic of who these people were and what they stood for. Curiosity won out over better judgment, and Leto instructed the Animus to load up the next major event. The Animus whirled, and the blue fog descended, building the memory.

Leto plunged back into Saja's world. It was mid afternoon and Saja was resting on the fountain, her water jar sitting next to her, already filled for the journey back home. It was not a long walk, but very difficult and tiring. The child within her was making it difficult. She smiled as she rubbed her swollen belly, feeling proud that she had blessed her husband with a child in their first year of marriage.

There was a commotion at the gate, and she raised her hand to shield her eyes to see better. An Assassin came stumbling in, several of his brothers crowding round to offer support. Saja pushed herself onto her feet, wondering what all the commotion was about, and why the Assassins were closing the gates. She turned and saw the preacher Masun hurrying towards the gate with another Assassin.

"Masun, what is going on?" She called to him as he passed her, but he merely scowled at her throwing the words "Not now woman" to her. She pursed her lips, a frown on her face. Something was wrong, very wrong. The Assassin who had come through the gate slowly walked passed her. He had the look of determination on his countenance, but his eyes burned with pain and loss. Her hand leapt to her mouth in shock as she took in the injury on his left arm. The whole sleeve was drenched in blood, and he looked as if he had been struck with a spiked mace. Suddenly Sahib appeared and hurried over to her.

"Saja, you must leave now. Masyaf is about to be attacked." He took her by the elbow, directing her uphill. She leaned slightly back "But my water jar..." He shook his head. "No time Saja. You are in no condition to be running away from enemies, let alone carrying a water jar as well." She nodded, and turned towards home. Sahib stopped her. "No Saja, you must go to the fortress, you will be safe there. Do not worry, I am sure Kahil will find you." She nodded again and started to make her way up towards the fortress.

She had not made it to the second terrace before she was panting, completely out of breath. Villagers were streaming up the hill slowly. But no one seemed to really be in a hurry. Some were not even making the journey, happy to lock themselves in their home. But Saja did not feel safe. She had seen the Assassin and his wounds. No, she would not feel safe until she was within the castle walls. She pressed on, and a couple of young girls came to her aid, supporting her in her climb. They were just coming to the last patch of houses before the long steep climb to the castle gates when she heard her name being shouted over the hubub of her fellow villagers.

The sight of her husband brought tears to her eyes, and as he ran up to her, embracing her, she let them flow down her cheeks. The two girls who had helped her, continued on their journey, slipping away into the crowd.

"I'm so scared" She sobbed to him. He gently stroked her hair.

"I know, I know. Don't worry, I am here now habibti."

"I didn't know where you were. Sahib wouldn't let me go back to the house." The words came out of her in a rush. He kept stroking her hair, trying to sooth her.

"Saja, its ok. Everything will be fine." The clash of metal reached their ears, and everyone turned to look downhill. A collective gasp of panic swept through those, for they were high enough to see the that Masyaf gates were open, and the Templar soldiers streaming through them. No longer were the villagers calm in their evacuation. People were running, screaming. Kahil held onto his wife tightly, trying to shield her from the jostling. She was less than a month away from giving birth, and he knew that the long trek to the castle would be the last thing she and the baby needed right now. Supporting her the best he could, they set off up the hill. But the fastest pace she could manage was still painfully slow. The sounds of battle were getting closer and closer all the time. Saja ignored her lungs which were screaming at her to stop, and leant heavily on Kahil. They were so close to the fortress gates. She gritted her teeth, and tuned out of the clash of metal, the screams of villagers and the cries of the dying. As the gates came into view she started murmuring a prayer for her unborn child, please let it be safe and unharmed, please let her not go into labour early. They reached the castle gates, and an Assassin directed them inside.

Saja reached out to a stone wall, and slid down, panting hard. Kahil knelt beside her, stroking a cheek. "Its ok habibti, its ok now. Shhhh, we're safe." He leant forward, resting his forehead on hers, while a hand rested on her belly.

Suddenly the world rushed into blue, and Leto felt herself being pushed over the edge of an invisible cliff. She screamed, but made no sound.

* * *

**Just some word translations for those who may not know.**

**Bintee= daughter**

**baba= father**

**habibti= beloved**


	8. Pain Relief

I do not own AC

* * *

Leto gasped awake on the Animus, eyes wide. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her body trembled from weakness. Logic and reason took seconds to catch up with her. Not dead, not dying, just a fast dump from the Animus. She let out a small groan as a headache suddenly blossomed in her head as the violent ejection took its toll on her nervous system. The usually soft whir of the motor which retracted the face screen now seemed head splittingly loud, and Leto squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

She groaned as she rolled off the bed, falling onto unsteady feet. The main monitor was blinking a faint red warning light, and her tablet was making an angry warning noise, but right at that moment, she really did not care. It felt as though someone was driving a jackhammer through her skull. She blindly grabbed for her tool bag and clumsily rummaged around, finally pulling out a packet of painkillers. Dry swallowing the pills, she slumped down at the desk chair in the cubical, hands cradling her head in an effort to find relief.

It had been an undeniably bad idea, jumping into an un-networked Animus. Without a monitor either to pull her out, she had relied on the safety backups on the system itself to keep her alive or pull her out. They were notorious for missing things which was why Abstergo always had a human monitor any session.

Her fingers gently massaged her temples, strands of hair escaping her ponytail and mussing over her face. The headache was awful, but gradually her rational thought process kicked in. Thinking of her 13 year old ancestor, married off to the armourers of the assassins. A glorified business deal and baby making machine. She had lived as that girl, been inside her head. It astonished her that Saja had not only accepted her place in the world, but had been proud of it, proud to have been owned by a man and proud to have borne him a child so quickly. The sense of accomplishment at ensuring the survival of her father's and her husband's business had been so complete it was tangible. Leto felt like it all stuck in her throat, like something unpleasant she just couldn't swallow. And yet, she too had found herself feeling those same emotions Saja had.

That realisation that somewhere deep inside her, she too felt proud to have done all those things stilled her massaging hands for a second. Emotional and psychophysical transference had been a well documented fact with Animus use, but she never realised it could happen so quickly. Or that it could affect the way she thought.

Movement caught her eye, and she gingerly peered out through the glass of the cubical. Two researchers were wandering by, deep in conversation, completely oblivious to Leto's watching eyes. It brought her back to reality, the reality that she had a job to do. Groaning quietly to herself, she grabbed her tablet and brought up the diagnostic page of the Animus. Headache or not, she needed this Animus back online. Both for her job and to find the truth.

* * *

Everything felt heavy. It was dark, a heavy sort of darkness, and he just couldn't move. He wasn't worried. It was just a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he should probably care. That he was forgetting something important something life changing. But it was just too much effort to remember. Sleep, all encompassing sleep was pulling him back into the depths of the blackness. A soft constant beeping, lulling him back into nothingness.

He tried to drag up the memory, the feeling of the memory, anything at all. But it was all too much. Carey slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

John sat in a cubical. He had nearly finished rebuilding his first Animus. It hadn't been difficult to clean and rebuild the machine, just time consuming. He had the machine running a couple of diagnostic programmes, and while he waited he had been snooping through the email servers. Any information he could find could be helpful. He desperately wanted to find something on Subject 17. He knew whatever was going on up there was very important. Vidic and Lucy were keeping everything close to their chests, and he had been told not to interfere in the last communiqué with his handler. Whoever Subject 17 was, he was either very important or completely worthless to the Order. Up until that point, his handler had always wanted him to get any and all information he could. To be ordered to stay away, he was betting that something big was going on. He just couldn't find out what. And he didn't like being kept in the dark.

An internal email to security staff caught his eye. He pushed down the urge to look around and check no one was watching. Nothing announced surreptitious behaviour faster than looking guilty. He quickly opened it, speed reading his way through. An eyebrow rose when he saw that Abstergo were actually implementing a security scheme he thought they had mothballed years ago - Plugging security personnel straight into the security system via an Animus. It looked like the scheme had been resurrected, and was due to be implemented this week.

John felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and all the fluid in his throat seemed to dry up all at once. This was not good. If every single security camera, listening device and data snoop was being beamed directly into the heads of Abstergo security, how the hell was he supposed to spy on them, let alone stay alive?

* * *

The painkillers had failed miserably at combating the headache and Leto was fed up. Slouching in the corner of the elevator, she waited for it to deposit her on the floor where the small medical facility was located. Although small it as a well stocked infirmary tucked away near human resources. It always reminded her of the sick bay on Deep Space 9 - everything all silver and shiny. Just like most of the technology at Abstergo, it all seemed to be cutting edge, almost futuristic. Walking into the infirmary, she was met by the on duty doctor, a small man with thinning salt and pepper hair and a sweet smile. He reminded Leto of an old school teacher she once had.

"Well, hello there, what can I do for you" While his greeting was pleasant enough, Leto rubbed the corner of her forehead, hoping he wouldn't ask too many questions.

"I have this god awful headache. I took aspirin about an hour ago, but they just didn't touch it one bit. I was wondering if you had anything a bit stronger." She looked up at him hopefully. He simply nodded, and directed her to a seat facing his work station.

"Hmmmm, well, let's see what we can do for you my dear." He said, pulling down a pair of reading glasses from his head. "What's your name?"

"Leto Day." She replied, an amused expression spreading across her face as she watched the doctor type into his keyboard using only his index fingers. He studied his screen for a moment.

"Did you sleep well last night? I notice here that you have been pulling some very long shifts." He asked.

Leto bobbed her head then regretted the movement when it earned a blasting attack from her head which had her clenching her teeth. "Yeah, been sleeping fine. Work has just been crazy busy, that's all. Its gotta get done, however long it takes."

He nodded at her response, using the down key on his keyboard to scroll down what she presumed was her medical file.

"How long have you been in an Animus today Leto?" He asked, not taking his eyes off the information in front of him.

"About 3 hours. I was working on getting it back online. It dumped me out when it overheated again" Leto swallowed, trying to quell the fear she felt at his question. She had every reason to be in an Animus, there was no possible way that anyone could know she had been reliving genetic memory.

He simply nodded at her answer and began to type. It was painful to watch him, and she was debating with herself whether or not to offer to type for him when he abruptly finished.

"Right, well, I don't think it's anything to worry about. I saw that you don't really spend that much time in an Animus. And with an ejection like that, I think it's perfectly normal to be feeling as you do." Leaning back, he regarded her over the top of his reading glasses. "You are not experiencing any other pain or symptoms are you?"

Leto shook her head.

"Pregnant?"

Leto fervently shook her head.

"Good. Well, let me give you something for your head. I am sure you will be missed before long, and I wouldn't want to keep you from your fine work." The doctor pushed himself out of his chair, wandering out into the next room.

Leto sat for a moment, unsure if she was supposed to follow him or not. Hesitating, she walked over to the doorway. The soft beep of machinery coming from the next room a painful reminder of the long days sat beside her grandmother in hospital, she peered after the doctor. He appeared to have disappeared through another doorway, but her eyes were drawn to a figure laying on one of the hospital type beds in the small ward. His eyes were closed and he seemed to have wires, cable and tubes stuck all over his head and body. Her lips parted at seeing her friend in such a sad state and she found her feet unconsciously leading her to the foot of his bed, her heart becoming heavier with each step. The room was eerily quiet with only the beep of the heart rate monitor and the click of the IV monitor preventing her friend's world from being utterly silent. Carey looked so different, his face unusually pale and he looked so small - the bed seemed to dwarf his frame.

The doctor bustled back through with a lollipop and a glass of water. "Ah, I see you have found my other patient, Mr O'Moal."

"Yeah, we work on the same floor. He's a friend." She replied softly not taking her eyes off Carey. Because of how insanely busy work had been she hadn't allowed herself to think about what had happened to him, and seeing him like this, so lifeless was upsetting. She felt her eyes heat and prick and blinked rapidly to avoid the tears. She didn't think she could remain conscious with her headache and crying combined. The doctor came and stood next to her, looking down at Carey.

"Hmm...Well, why don't you take a seat here for a few minutes? You can keep Mr O'Moal company while you suck on this." He said, motioning to the chair next to Carey's bed.

She bit her lip as she lowered herself into the seat. Her headache was pounding against the inside of her skull, and she wondered how bad it had been for Carey for his brain to have shut down his body so completely. The doctor handed her the lollipop and glass of water. She gave him a perplexed look, she had expected pills not something you give to kids.

The doctor quirked a smile at her face, "It's called Fentanyl. The drug is in the lollipop. It's absorbed quicker through your mouth and starts to take effect in 5 to 10 minutes. The glass of water is in case you have a dry mouth. Although, I would like you to drink all the water please. It's good for hydration. I will be back to check on you in a little while." He said, retreating back towards his office, turning back to her before he left her alone he added, "Oh, and Mr O'Moal may be unconscious, but he is still registering some higher brain function. Feel free to talk to him. You never know, he may be able to hear you."

Leto rolled the lollipop stick between two fingers, before sticking it in her mouth. It wasn't so bad actually, a sort of pleasant berry flavour.

"Hey Carey." she whispered, feeling a little awkward for talking to someone who was obviously not up to conversing. "Well, I don't know if you can really hear me or not. They do say that you're hearing is the last thing to go before you die. Not that you're dying or anything. Just that you may be able to hear me." She rubbed the side of her neck annoyed with her own lack of sensitivity. "I'm sorry. Not really much good at this sort of stuff. And you're not making it any easier. A comment like that would have earned me a clip behind the ear." She rolled the lollipop around her mouth for a while, trying to come up with something, anything to talk to him about. "Argh! I have got such a bad headache, my brain is all over the place, and here I am trying to talk to you." she shook her head sadly before swapping the lollipop for a quick sip of water. The machines continued doing their jobs and broke up the silence as Leto struggled to come up with something meaningful to say.

"I got dumped out a machine today. Not like you. I got no idea what happened to you. All I got was an overheated Animus and a bitch of a headache. What the hell happened to you man?" She downed the rest of the water before shoving the lollipop back into her mouth, sucking on it madly. "You just dropped. Scared the hell out of me. Maybe you are just one giant Irish pansy, who can't cope with a headache. Yeah, a giant pansy." she said putting on the meerkat accent, a smile ghosting over her lips as she found the insult funny. She looked over at him again and her face dropped. He would have laughed at that. It felt so sad seeing him like this, just laying there. Not even the slightest of reactions, any hint that the man she knew was still in there somewhere. The constant beep of the monitors began lulling her like some weird electronic lullaby. A sigh escaped her lips and her head slumped forward, watching her hands as she rolled the empty glass between them.

She wanted to tell him what she had done for him. Wanted to ask him why he had wanted his memory covered up. And what had really been going on in Germany. She wanted to share her own revelations, tell him about Saja and Masyaf. That there were all these connections, but she couldn't see the picture, couldn't see how they all fitted together. And that Abstergo was at the heart of it all, possibly a conspiracy of some kind. She raised her head and looked at Carey again, her mouth opening, trying to think of something that would express to him everything she was thinking. Her eyes fell on the little camera and its blinking red light on the ceiling, and she snapped her mouth shut. They could be watching, listening. Fear fluttered through her heart, and she took another deep breath trying to quell the feeling, her tongue madly pushing the lollipop around her mouth. She had to be overreacting. Conspiracy theories were for crazy people.

"Miss Day?" The doctor's voice startled her out of her thoughts. His reading glasses were back on the top of his head as he peered into the ward. Leto smiled at him, and waved her empty glass.

"Good, good. And how is the Fentanyl doing?"

"Not bad actually." She replied, taking the remnants of the lollipop out of her mouth. "My head isn't as bad as it was, and the lollipop was actually quite nice. Strange aftertaste though" She mused.

"Good. Well, you are free to get back to work Miss Day. If your headache worsens, or you experience any nausea, weakness or any other symptoms, you need to come back and see me. I believe you are safe to re-enter an Animus, but if I were you, I would wait a couple of hours. And try to avoid activating an emergency pull from those machines. I'm not sure what it would do to your brain chemistry." He turned away from her, dismissing her with his final words of warning.

"Doctor?" Leto called out after him.

He turned to her raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Will he be ok? When is he going to wake up?" She asked in a small voice, motioning to Carey.

The doctor glanced down at the man in the bed and shrugged. "I honestly do not know. He will come round if and when his body is ready." He said before leaving. Leto glanced down at Carey and wrinkled up her face.

"Hurry up Carey. I miss you. I can't go drinking without my partner." She whispered before hurrying out of the infirmary, back to the Animi floor.

* * *

Several floors down a heavy set grunt switched off the audio to the surveillance camera. He had watched the exchange with interest, but had become disappointed that nothing had happened. His boss was gunning for Mr O'Moal, and had his team double checking everything for any resembling a security leak. The technician hadn't even come up to visit the man, and he was half tempted not to log the incident. It would only lead to more work for him. But she had called Mr O'Moal her friend. And knowing his luck, she would turn out to be important and it would bite him on the ass if he didn't write it up. Personally, the O'Moal guy looked as clean as a whistle, and the girl acted as ignorant as her file stated.

Sighing, he rolled his neck to ease the tension created by watching CCTV all day. Pulling out the keyboard, he started to write a new incident report. Soon, he wouldn't have to do this. They had been promised Animus integration and finally they were getting it. No more sitting at an uncomfortable desk, wearing horrible headphones while his eyes dried out from staring at a screen all day. By the end of the week, they were all due to be plugged in. He had heard rumours that they could set up their workspaces however they liked, just so long as they monitored their sections. He was thinking of trying to get the moon. How relaxing would it be to watch his screens while sitting on the moon. The Animus could create whatever workspace he wanted. And no more writing, whatever he thought could be transcribed straight into a report.

Everything was going to be so much easier.

* * *

It was nearing the end of the day as Leto snapped a side panel back onto another Animus. She knew that if she were to get all 15 machines rebuilt and running by the end of the week, she needed to average 2 a day. That was a big ask for anyone, and the thought of unpaid overtime was putting a downer on her mood.

The machine needed a couple hours compiling time to itself before she could start to run final checks and diagnostics to bring it back online to the network. Rocking back on her heels, she thought through her options. Suddenly the lights dimmed casting the cubicle she was in and the Animi floor into blue shadow. She liked it like that. After 6pm, the floor pretty much shut down, the researchers generally working 9 to 5, like normal people. She supposed Abstergo were power saving by turning off the main lights. But she liked it. It gave the place an underwater feel. Everything was less clinical and shiny. Fewer people about too. The cleaning crews would do their rounds shortly, and security had their patrols. But gone was the low hum of people talking. Machinery noise was at a minimum, and most deliciously, there wouldn't be any technical help requests.

At that moment, her tablet beeped at her, and she cursed her luck. Flicking the message open, she saw that the message was from John.

Printer in R106 isn't working. Needs fixing. Am ordering pizza. Want anything?

Not exactly great literature, she thought to herself, and sending her on a printer errand. The fat sod was as lazy as hell. She quickly typed back.

Meat feast.

'Well, two can play that game' she thought wryly to herself. Quickly popping over to R106, she let out an exasperated sigh as she saw that when John said the printer wasn't working, it was a euphemism for someone taking the machine to pieces. And had obviously forgotten how they had taken the machine apart. Where they had found a screwdriver, she had no idea, but everything that should have been inside the printer was now strewn about over the desk.

Taking a deep breath to bury the frustration, she pulled her iPod out, and hit random before trying to piece together the dismembered printer.

* * *

The smell of hot cheese and pepperoni was a wonderful distraction to the printer from hell. The printer had gone back together fine, but had insisted on jamming every time she tried a print test. Turning, she spied John lumbering down the corridor, pizza box in hand.

"Damn, I'm starving." She said, flicking the earphones out of her ears, standing up from the desk and moving to take the pizza box from off him.

"Well, you owe me now. You can get the next one, and get it past security. How's the printer coming?"

Leto grimaced with her mouth full at the thought of that evil piece of equipment. "Damn thing keeps jamming."

John pushed past her, dropping his bulk into the seat she had just vacated, and started fiddling with the machine.

"Pick-up roller is in back to front" He grunted at her, and she was sure he had a smug smile plastered all over his face. She just rolled her eyes, because, right at that moment she didn't care. The pizza tasted way too good to be annoyed that she had made such a newbie mistake.

She shoved another slice into her mouth before closing the pizza box lid and grabbing her tool bag. "Whatever. Can you finish up here? Wanna get back to my Animus." Well, that's what she tried to say, but with a mouth full of pizza, it didn't really come out. John turned to her, the universal expression of 'what the hell was that?' across his face. Waving at him over her shoulder, she walked back to the Animus she had been working on.

It was still half way through compiling, and as she stood there, idly flicking through the diagnostic screens on her tablet, she realised, she didn't want to waste any time. She was itching, impatient to get back into an Animus and see what other memories she had. She hoped she would meet Saja again. She wanted to know if she had had a happy life in the end, living in the village of the assassins. A plan quickly formulated in her mind. If she could get another Animus up to the compiling stage, she could jump into this one while it was still un-networked and not lose any time. Leto hurriedly brought up the list on Animi, and searched for the one that seemed to have the least bugs and issues.

Leto rushed through the next four hours, finally sliding herself on top of a perfectly operational and un-networked Animus. The face screen slid over her head, and sprang to life. The list of memories that the Animus had found during its scan appeared, waiting for her to choose one. The image of Carey flashed into her head. The way he had been laying there, so lifeless, and the sudden thought that that could be her too. The list no longer looked exciting, but ominous. As if every memory brought her closer to some horrible disaster. Was this really worth dying over or at least getting hurt? A sinking feeling in her stomach had her grimacing at her own cowardice. There were only 9 memories to go. She told herself to 'suck it up' as she activated the next memory on the list.

* * *

A/N: Many many thanks to my wonderful beta reader blissful catatonia. I am only starting to realise how important it is to have someone. Thank you.


	9. Family

_Jeddo- Granddad._

_Ummu- Mummy._

_Bintee- Beloved/little daughter._

_Habibi- My beloved._

_Ab- Father._

_Ahlan- Hello._

* * *

Saja sighed wearily as she cleared away the spilt porridge which now covered half the table in a grey sticky mess. Tamim had just learnt to walk, and was now interested in everything. Nothing that was within the reach of the toddler was safe. And Marzuq seemed only to be encouraging his little brother, getting them both into trouble. Saja sighed again as a hand drifted to her belly. She knew another child was growing within her, and hoped desperately that it was a girl. Her mother had never told her how difficult it would be to look after children on top of a husband and house. And here she was with child again. It was a blessing, and she knew she should be happy. She was happy she just wished that it wasn't so difficult.

Rinsing a cloth out in the bucket of water, she mopped up the last of the spilt meal. From the doorway, she heard squeals of delight and cries of "Jeddo! Jeddo!" from her children. She turned to see Al-Tayyib carrying Tamim on his hip, with Marzuq tugging his grandfather's hand, as he pulled him toward the house.

"Ummu! Look, Jeddo has come to visit!" Marzuq babbled at her, delighted to see his grandfather. Little Tamim had wrapped his arms around Al-Tayyibs neck, and was plastering his grandfathers face with kisses. Al-Tayyib peered at her from behind the onslaught, smiling at the affection shown to him by his grandchildren.

_He had been good to her over the years, always making sure she felt welcome. He had even requested time away from the order, just to escort her back to Jerusalem when her mother had become gravely ill. It had been a difficult time; the doctors in Jerusalem had sent word for her to hurry, for they feared that the sickness would claim her life. That night, she had cried and grieved alone, a baby Marzuq sleeping peacefully in her arms. She would never see her mother again, the infant was too small and not yet weaned to make the journey. Not forgetting that the journey was long and fraught with dangers. Neither would the purse strings allow for such a trip._

_It was then in her darkest hour she truly learned the value of a family who love you. She had been curled up on the bed with their son awaiting Kahil's return and silently cursing him for not being by her side. She had been deeply wounded by his lack of compassion. The fact that he had not returned home for his evening meal had spoken volumes. She thought herself abandoned and alone, the small house having become her prison, holding her captive while her mother died. Saja wept quietly, allowing herself to fall into the depths of grief and pain._

_It was many hours later before Kahil returned. Suddenly bursting __into the room he came to a screeching halt when he saw his unhappy wife on the bed. All hunched up over his son, her face tear stained, red and swollen. Gently kneeling beside the bed he rested a tender hand on her ankle. "Saja, my Saja I am so very sorry. I only learned the news of your mother at sunset and I had hoped your friends would be around you." His fingers traced small circles over the sensitive bones of her ankle as he spoke softly to his young wife.__ "I had no idea you were alone. I am sorry"_

_A small sniff escaped her lips, his entreaties lessening her feelings of rejection."Where have you been?" She said in a small broken voice._

"_To speak with my father, and my grandfather. We then went together up to the fortress and sought an audience with the Mentor." _

_Saja frowned as she listened to her husband. What did the family's patriarch or even the leader of the assassins have to do with her or her mother? Kahil was making no sense_

_._

"_Saja, I know how difficult it was for you, and how much you missed your mother. I think, no, I know that you have to go to her. It has been decided. You will return to Jerusalem until you wish to return home to me."_

_Saja felt her spirits lift at such news. Kahil smiled at her, still rubbing her ankles."But, there are conditions. You know Marzuq is too young to make such a trip in the heat of summer. And I do not wish to put any more stress on you." His eyes drifted to her stomach, and a hand came to rest upon the slight bump. "Ramiz has forbidden me to leave Masyaf while my current business contract is unfinished. So, Marzuq will stay here with me. Fatima has agreed to be his wet nurse." _

_Saja's hand came to grip his hand on her stomach.__"Habibi I cannot leave you, and I fear for my life to travel by myself." She whispered to him._

"_Altair himself said that very thing. He has given Al-Tayibb leave to escort you to your family, and he will remain in Jerusalem with you. He is preparing at this moment. You are to leave at first light."_

_Saja's lip quivered, baby Marzuq shifted in her arms, a contented sigh on his tiny lips."Family is all we truly have in life. We must not take for granted the time we have with these very special people. Now, let me help you prepare."_

Saja blinked away the memory, as vivid as it had been years ago still brought tears to her eyes.

"Ahlan Ab. I hope all is well." Saja greeted her father in law, pleased to see him.

"Bintee, I am glad to see you are well. I am here to convey a request on behalf of the healer." He said to her, trying to disengage Tamim. Saja's heart leapt into her throat, worrying about Kahil. Marzuq was tugging at Al-Tayyib's robes, wanting his attention, and Saja quickly pulled him away to hush the child. Al-Tayyib obviously saw her concern and quickly reassured her as he set Tamim on the floor.

"Do not worry yourself bintee. No one is injured. It is Maria. She has gone into labour. Altair will not let any of the male healers near her, and the midwife says she needs assistance. I know you helped her with Fatima's difficult labour. It was suggested that you could assist her again."

Saja bobbed her head, worry plastered over her face. "Ab, you well know that I would do anything you request of me. But with Kahil away on business, I cannot leave my children here alone."

"I know, you will bring them with us. My novices need to be taught a lesson in patience and responsibility." Saja felt alarm at the thought of trusting her children to assassins in training. Especially those who already thought to lack the patience and compassion to care for them. Al-Tayyib caught the expression on her face "Saja, this is not open for discussion. Gather what supplies you require, and come immediately."

The slight rebuke made Saja's face flush, and she humbly bobbed her head and hurrying through the little house, gathering the things she needed into a small basket.

The trip up to the fortress was thankfully uneventful. Both Marzuq and Tamim behaved. Tamim was still too little to make the entire trip under the power of his little legs. Al-Tayyib had picked him up, and as she followed her father-in-law, she watched her son stick his thumb in his mouth, and promptly fall asleep on his grandfather's shoulder. Entering the courtyard of the fortress, a group of four novices hurriedly picked themselves off the ground where they had been sitting in the shade out of the afternoon heat. Saja still felt very uneasy leaving her children in their care, but Al-Tayyib had not given her a choice. She mutely stood slightly behind Al-Tayyib as he issued orders to his students and passed her children over to them. Before she could even say goodbye, Al-Tayyib had turned her by the shoulder and was directing her away.

"They will be fine bintee. But, we need to hurry."

The interior of the fortress was cool and dark. The sudden change made Saja shiver. Al-Tayyib set a fast pace through the maze like corridors and stairs. Spying a young novice, Al-Tayyib had him run off ahead of them to announce Saja's arrival. It was then that nervousness began to eat away at her stomach. The midwife was expecting trouble if she had asked for assistance, and Saja knew that giving birth twice and helping with another birth did not qualify her for anything. What could she do? And what if something went wrong. If the baby were to die, or Maria? The wife and child of the leader of the Assassins. Her life would be forfeit. The wails and moans of a woman in distress faintly reached her ears, and tears threatened to spill from Saja's eyes as they drew closer to their destination.

Saja's steps faltered as she was lead into a small dark room. Fear gripped her heart, threatening to stop it cold as her eyes took in the scene. Several high ranking assassins were crowded in there, lining the walls. Faces hidden by hoods or face cloths only deepened her sense of foreboding. Two healers we sat quietly at a desk, conversing in hushed tones over a pile of books and scrolls. Saja spotted their apprentices in a corner. They wore the unmistakable expression of trapped rats. But all these things paled into insignificance at the man pacing the centre of the room. His pacing was quiet, calm and measured, and yet, Saja knew that it was the fact that he was pacing which was putting everyone else in the room on edge. In those 6 strides, everyone could feel the barely contained power, threatening to break out into a destructive, unstoppable force.

"Mentor..." Al-Tayyib's voice was quiet and respectful, almost inaudible over Maria's sudden cries from the next room, but it was as if he had shouted. Altair's head snapped around to look at them. Saja felt herself take a step to the side, behind Al-Tayyib, like a small child does when scared. His eyes were those of a wild man, ready to tear heaven and earth for the woman next door. Worry and fear creased his brow, he looked desperate. She suddenly wondered if Kahil had been as worried for her when she gave birth, the thought flashing through her mind.

A hand at her elbow made Saja jump. One of the healers had come over to her, a small scrap of parchment in his hand. "Give this to the midwife. It has instructions that will aid her." He said to her in hushed tones while leading her to the door. As the healers hands lifted the latch, a heavy weight descended on her neck. A large gloved hand held her in place, and she was glad of the heavy skirts which hid her trembling legs, because she knew who was behind her. Grasping the parchment and basket of supplies, she turned to face Altair. He towered above her, making her feel impossibly small and weak, the pressure from his hand never let up.

"Keep them safe. Please." His words were gruff, and filled with emotion, his eyes pleading with her.

"Let the poor girl go. The sooner she goes in there Altair, the sooner she can do her job." Malik suddenly appeared at Altairs side, pulling him away from Saja. Altair never stopped looking at her, imploring her with his eyes, and she made haste to enter the bedchamber.

The scene that greeted her wasn't much better. Both Maria and the midwife looked stressed beyond words. Saja was surprised to find Maria standing up, holding onto the small window sill rather than the usual position of sitting on the birthing stool.

"Ah, Saja, you have arrived, finally." The midwife hurried over to her, carrying an empty bucket. "Here, I need to fetch some hot water. What's this?" She snatched the parchment from Saja's hand, and replaced it with the basin. "Stupid men, they read one book, and they think they are the expert in delivering babies." She said tossing the parchment away and onto the floor. "Good god girl! What are you doing standing still? Go and fetch my water." The midwife stared Saja down for a moment, before turning back to Maria and rubbing the small of her back. Dropping her basket in a corner, she slipped back out into the anteroom with the bucket. She felt her cheeks flush as suddenly she was the centre of attention from everyone in the room.

"I need water. Hot water." she mumbled to no one in particular. Malik pushed forward, a lidded bucket in his hand.

"We knew you would. Take this, and I shall send for more." He said, depositing it at her feet. Saja nodded her head, grabbing the handle to hurry back. She could feel Altair's eyes boring into the back of her head.

Latching the door closed, she heard her name being called. "Saja. Thank you." Maria had turned and now had her back leaning against the wall. Her face was slightly flushed and Saja could see that she was slightly panting.

"Maria. I will do all I can to help." She said.

The midwife suddenly chimed in. "She is very good and calm Maria just what you want. If only she hadn't already got a husband and children of her own, I would have snapped her up as an apprentice. It's a shame really, a waste of some natural talent. Child didn't really have a choice, married off at 13. I know how you disagree with such practices Maria." It was high praise indeed from the midwife, and Saja felt the blush rise on her cheeks again. Yet she felt a frown furrow her brow at the disrespect both women seemed to share of men. At that moment, Maria had another contraction start, the pain causing her to moan loudly.

"Keep her cool Saja while I finish preparing something that will help things along." The midwife instructed, turning back to a paste she was preparing. Grabbing a wet rag, Saja wiped the perspiration off Maria's brow and neck, marvelling at how white her skin was.

"Where are your children Saja?" Maria asked, her head tilted back as the contraction finished.

"Al-Tayyib left them with some novices." Saja replied. Maria spluttered in reply.

"What? You cannot be serious. You let him? Argh, men are all bloody brainless idiots." Another contraction started, and Maria's face contorted with pain. "This is all Altair's damn fault." She said behind gritted teeth. Saja felt herself being push out of the way.

"Now now, Maria. We both know that it was not entirely his fault. You helped him along remember, quite willingly if the gossip is true." The midwife admonished her "Let me put this balm on your stomach now." Without waiting for consent, the midwife pulled Maria's dress up to expose her swollen belly and applied a thick yellowy red grease. Saja remembered her own experiences with that paste. It stained anything it came into contact with, and she could never get it out. Oblivious to this, the midwife pulled down the dress again, returning some dignity to Maria.

"God, well I hope it works. It has been hours." Maria grumbled just before another contraction started.

"I know my dear. I see the birthing pains are getting very close together. This is a good thing. It is perhaps time for you to sit on the birthing stool." Saja watched the midwife gently manoeuvre Maria to the stool in the middle of the room.

"But I don't want to sit. I have already sat on the damn stool, and nothing happened" Maria was being very stubborn, and Saja didn't know what to do. Saja scrunched up her toes in her sandals as she felt just a little useless.

"I need to check the entrance to your womb. See if it has opened yet. Saja, come and support her back." Saja wordlessly placed herself behind Maria, and began washing her neck while Maria leaned into her. She watched as the midwife pushed her hands up Maria's dress. A frown quickly crossed her features, and she quickly changed positions, her hands gently feeling across the expanse of the swollen belly.

"What? What is it?" Maria was quick to notice, and Saja started to stroke the women's hair in an effort to calm her.

"Nothing, do not worry. I was just surprised. Your body is ready, but it appears the child does not yet wish to leave." Saja felt fear grip her stomach. Despite the midwife's light tone and easy words, Saja knew what that meant. The baby was not in the correct position. The midwife quickly stood and rinsed her hands. Saja kept quiet, she knew she could not trust her voice to betray her own worry and anxiety.

"Maria, I need to move the child into the correct position. But it will hurt. I am sorry, but I must do it. Saja, help Maria onto the bed. She needs to be laying down." Saja put her arms around the English woman, and helped her to her feet, suddenly feeling very small next to the taller woman. Maria leant heavily on Saja as another contraction wracked her body, eliciting a long loud moan from the woman. The pain seemed to go on for a long time, longer than any of the others she had had.

"Maria, hurry up. Your body is not waiting much longer." The midwife eased Maria into a laying position before bringing her hands to Maria's stomach. "Saja, hold her hand, this will be quite painful."

"It can't be worse than the pain I am already in." Maria gasped. Saja licked her lips nervously, knowing how wrong the woman was. She watched the midwife take a deep breath and then apply a twisting pressure to the stomach, using all her weight to turn the baby still inside Maria. Maria let out a groan which was bordering on a scream. Saja gritted her teeth as Maria hand suddenly turned into a vice. She could feel all the bones in her hand compress next to each other. The pain brought tears to her eyes, but he knew that it was worse for Maria. Maria was sobbing for it to stop, gasping for air, her face screwed up in pain. The midwife suddenly stopped, and all three women were left panting from the exertion. Saja met the eyes of the midwife and saw her nod.

"Its done, we need to get her back on the stool." As Saja pulled at Maria's shoulders, she saw the older woman shake her head, her face still troubled with pain.

"No, no. I can't move. Please, let me stay here." She gasped, her head tossing from side to side. Saja could see the pain was intense, and the woman looked exhausted, but was confident that the midwife knew best. She pushed an arm under Maria's shoulders, pulling her upright.

"Maria, now come on. This is no time to be making a fuss. It will be easier on you and the child if you are sitting on the stool." The midwife said, but Saja had her own doubts about that stool, it was small and uncomfortable. The same one she had delivered both her children on. With no back, it was left up to the woman to keep herself upright, and while pushing a baby out of her body, it was one of the hardest things she had ever done. At least Maria would have her to lean against. Saja held her by the elbow, Maria was making groaning loudly as the contractions came and went. The midwife examined her again, nodding in satisfaction.

"Its going well Maria. Just keep breathing through the pain. And when you feel the need to push, just push. Now, lets get those waters broken, the child is trying to come" The midwife pulled a small vial from a hidden pocket, pushing it under Maria's nose. The effect was almost instantaneous, and Maria let out a series of rapid sneezes, and suddenly the floor was covered in a little pool of fluid.

"What was that?" Saja asked the midwife. She was curious since her waters had always broken a long time before this point in labour.

"Pepper, to make her sneeze. Saw a shepherd use it on a sheep once." The midwife said matter-of-factly while positioning herself so that she could catch the baby.

A small laugh escaped Maria. "I'm not sure how confident I am with a midwife who takes lessons on birthing from a shepherd"

The midwife glanced up at her, clearly offended, but ignored the comment in favour of delivering the child. "Now Maria, you really need to push with the birthing pains. Use the pain to deliver your child."

Maria just nodded, panting heavily, and leaning against Saja. Sweat poured down her face. Saja felt really sorry for the woman, and thanked Allah that her own child births had been over quickly.

She felt her body tense against her as Maria screamed in pain. The moment passed quickly, and left her panting and drained.

"It hurts so much." She mumbled, her head leaning back against Saja's shoulder. Saja brought the cloth up to try and sooth Maria and keep her cool.

"I know, it will be over soon." She said softly in the English woman's ear. Another contraction started, and Saja reached over Maria's shoulders and placed her hands on Marias belly, applying a gentle pressure to aid the baby.

"Argh! I fucking hate you Altair!" Maria screamed at the top of her voice. Saja leaned into Maria's back, trying to take her weight so the woman could bare down.

"Maria, you have to push!" The midwife said.

"I am!"

"This is good Maria, the baby is coming. The next time round, I need you to to push really hard." The midwife instructed. Saja felt worried when the woman's only response was a low moan. She was now leaning very heavily against the girl, and Saja wondered if she really had the strength to do this. When the next contraction started, she felt her heart go out to the woman. Maria threw back her head, and screamed with everything she had. Saja felt the air in her lungs vibrate, the scream was that piercing.

Suddenly, another cry intermingled with the painful sobs from Maria. The cries of a small child, breathing its first in the world.

"You have a son Maria." The midwife whispered, smiling as she held the infant. Maria was so weary, she made no effort to look or even raise her head. She whimpered softly with each laboured breath. The midwife's eyes met Saja. "Saja, the cord has been cut, please prepare the child."

The little boy was so tiny in her hands. His hands and legs waved madly in the air, with his little face all screwed up, crying with everything his little lungs had. Saja carefully rinsed away the fluid and fats from his face and body. Taking the salt, she rubbed it carefully over his body, and smile coming unbidden to her face and the beauty of the baby. Rinsing him again, and marvelling at how soft and pale the child's skin was, she tightly bundled him up with swaddling cloths. It had been a year since she had needed to tie them for her own, and he was pleased with herself that she made a fine job. Taking the boy in the crook of her arm, she reached into her basket, and found a little jar of honey. Using her little finger, she gently rubbed honey on his gums, both to sooth him and hopefully make him hungry. She felt herself light up and he greedily sucked on her finger. Turning, she looked to the midwife for direction.

"Take him to meet his father while I deliver the afterbirth." Nodding she turned to the door. Easing the door open with one hand, she was immediately intimidated to find Altair standing right in front of her his entire frame blocking the doorway.

"Master Altair. You have a son." Saja carefully passed the child to his father. She felt a sense of loss, and her hand immediately drifted to her own stomach, to her own child which she could hold in a few months time. Daring to glance up, happiness blossomed in her chest as she saw the leader of the assassins with his son. He had the child delicately cradled in his arms, his head bowed over the child in wonder. A single little fist had escaped the swaddling cloths, much to Saja's embarrassment, but Altair didn't seem to care. Rather, he brought his own hand up, running a finger up the child's arm and finishing in his palm where the baby grabbed on with all its might. She watched a smile spread across the assassins face.

"Maria, my wife. I want to see her."

Saja shook her head. "I am sorry master. But she is not ready yet." The assassin continued to stare at his son, but he replied with a low commanding voice.

"I don't care. That damn midwife barred me during childbirth, now I am holding our child. I will see my wife. Get out of my way." He growled at her.

Saja swallowed audibly, having never forgotten that the person who stood before her was the most feared killer and assassin in all the holy land. It was a split second decision, and she would rather face the wrath of the midwife. She tried to make herself as small as possible as the assassin pushed past her.

"Master Altair! You cannot be in here." The midwife chastised Altair. She was helping Maria lay on the bed.

"There is nothing you could do or say to make me leave woman." Came the gruff reply as he made his way over to Maria. Saja saw that she looked more exhausted than anyone she had seen in her life. He sat beside her, and passed the child into her arms.

"Look. We have a boy. A beautiful baby boy." He reached up, and pushed a lock of hair out of Maria's face, leaning over to plant a simple kiss on her temple while caressing her neck. Saja felt embarrassed and rude to witness such an intimate moment, and quickly averted her gaze to try and find something to clean up.

A hand brushed her arm. "Saja, leave me to finish. The servants will clean up, and I will make sure Maria and the child are looked after. Thank you for your help, but you should return to your own family." Saja nodded gratefully, picking up her basket and exiting. The antechamber was surprisingly empty, only Malik and Al-Tayyib remained, conversing in hushed tones. Al-Tayyib spotted Saja, and immediately stood, ready to leave.

"Saja, how is Maria and the child?" Malik asked her in a level voice.

"They are both well, although it was a difficult and long birth for Maria." Saja lowered her gaze under the scrutiny of the two men. She heard Malik huff and Al-Tayyib approached her.

"Come, let us retrieve my grandchildren. It has grown late. I will escort you back home with torches." His words suddenly explained why she was feeling so tired. Looking out a small window she passed, she indeed saw that night had fallen. Concern for her children filled her breast. To have left them alone for that much time... She had not even given them their evening meal. She silently wrung her hands as she followed behind Al-Tayyib.

Matters did not improve when Al-Tayyib could not find Marzuq, Tamim or his novices. The courtyard and library were deserted, and only a few older assassins her in the dining hall. Everyone they passed had not seen the group in hours. Saja could feel tears welling up, and her breaths were coming out in soft shallow bursts. Al-Tayyib stopped at an intersection, obviously thinking. She felt so alone. He had not spoken to her or even looked at her since being in Altair's rooms. He suddenly dashed off, making Saja jog to keep up. Throwing open a door, he let out a large sigh, his shoulders sagging, a hand raking his short hair. He took a step back and allowed her entrance. As she passed him, he noticed a handwritten message nailed to the door, but she wasn't interested. She wanted to know that her babies were safe. Letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, she was 4 pallets lining a wall. Marzuq was curled up on the nearest one, a novice assassin sleeping beside him, and protective hand on the child's shoulder. She spotted Tamim tightly snuggled into the embrace of another novice assassin. She smiled as the peaceful expressions her children had on their faces. At-Tayyib gently pulled her out of the room.

"The left a note." He had a rueful grin on his face. "It seems that after their meal, neither child would go to bed alone, but kept wailing for you. Apparently, it was a lot of work to get them to go to sleep. Aban, he is the eldest, is sleeping on the floor. He requested that you take his pallet for tonight so that you need not wake the two children. I believe my grandchildren have my novices wrapped around their little fingers." He chuckled.

Saja felt relief wash over her knowing that they were safe and unharmed. It was like a massive weight had been lifted from her. But she was reluctant to sleep in the same room as four novice assassins, feeling it would be inappropriate. Al-Tayyib sensed her reluctance.

"It will be well bintee. Nothing bad will happen. They are my students, they will protect and look after you, I promise. You can breakfast with the rest of the order tomorrow morning and return home in daylight. Come, you must be tired." She felt herself acquiescing, and she really was tired. She supposed that one night away from home wasn't too bad. And the novices had looked after Marzuq and Tamim. Slipping onto the pallet, she felt the tiredness fully catch up with her, stealing her away to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Hope you guys enjoy my serious amount of research into 12th century midwifery.


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